Divan Hafez With en

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October 2001
Ghazal of Hafez Shirazi
In Persian with English translation
Original Translation by Henry Wilberforce Clarke (1840-1905)
Part 1 (version 1.03)
Compiled and Corrected by

Dr. Behrouz Homayoun Far
far@acm.org
http://www.enel.ucalgary.ca/People/far
Preface
The translations appearing in this collection are by Henry Wilberforce Clarke who used the
Upjohns Calcutta version (1791) of Divan of Hafez in 1891. The original Calcutta edition had a
number of mistakes and it is verified that some of the poems do not belong to Hafez and are added
afterwards. The most reliable edition of Divan is published at Tehran in 1320/1941 under the
editorship of Mirza Mohammad Qazvini and Dr Qasem Ghani. This edition has admitted 495
ghazals as unquestionably genuine, beside 3 qasidehs, 2 mathnavis, 34 occasional pieces
(muqattaat) and 42 robais, a total of 573 poems. I have selected those poems that appear in
Qazvini and Ghani edition and partially rewritten some of the translations to be more poetic and
understandable.
2001/10/6
Calgary, Canada
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Ho! O Saki, pass around and offer the bowl:
For love at first appeared easy, but difficulties have occurred.
By reason of the perfume of the musk-pod, that, at the end, the breeze displayeth from
that fore-lock,
From the twist of its musky curl, what blood befell the hearts!
In the stage of the Beloved, mine what ease and pleasure, when momently,
The beil giveth voice, saying: Bind ye up the chattels of existence!
With wine, becolor the prayer-mat if the Pir of the Magians bid thee;
For of the way and usage of the stages not without knowledge is the holy traveler.
The dark night, and the fear of the wave, and the whirlpool so fearful.
The light-burdened ones of the shore, how know they our state?
By following my own fancy, me to ill fame all my work brought:
Secret, how remaineth that great mystery whereof assemblies speak?
Hafez! if thou desire the presence from Him be not absent:
When thou visitest thy Beloved, abandon the world; and let it go.
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The rectitude of work, where? and, I ruined where?
Behold the distance of the Path, from where to where?
My heart wearied of the cloister, and of the patched garment of hypocrisy:
The Magians cloister; where? the pure wine where?
With profligacy, what connections have rectitude and piety?
The hearing of the exhortation where? The melody of the stringed instrument where?
From the Friends face, what gaineth the dark heart of enemies?
The dead lamp, where? The candle of the resplendent sun, where?
The dust of Thy threshold is like the kuhl of our vision:
Where go we? Order. Hence, where?
Look not at the apple of the chin; for in the path is a pit:
O heart! where goest thou? With this haste, where?
He is gone! To him, be the time of union a pleasant memory.
Gone is that glance, where? and that reproof, where?
O friend! from Hafez seek neither ease nor patience:
Ease, what? Patience, what? Sleep, where?
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If that Bold One of Shiraz gain our heart,
For His dark mole, I will give Samarkand and Bukhara.
Said! give the wine remaining; for, in Paradise, thou wilt not have
The bank of the water of the Ruknabad nor the rose of the garden of Musalla.
Alas! These saucy dainty ones sweet of work, the torment of the city,
Take patience from the heart even as the men of Turkistan the tray of plunder.
The beauty of the Beloved is in no need of our imperfect love:
Of lustre, and color, and mole and tricked line, what need hath the lovely face?
By reason of that beauty, daily increasing that Yusof had, I know
That Love for Him would bring Zulaikha forth from the screen of chastity.
Thou spakest ill of me; and I am happy. God Most High forgive thee thou spakest well:
The bitter reply suiteth the ruby lip, sugar-eating.
O Soul! Hear the counsel, for, dearer than the soul,
Hold happy youths the counsel of the wise old man.
The tale of minstrel and of wine utter; little seek the mystery of time;
For this mystery, none solved by skill; and shall not solve.
Thou utteredest a ghazal; and threadedest pearls. Hafez! come and sweetly sing
That, on thy verse, the sky may scatter the cluster of the Pleiades.
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O breeze! with softness speak to the beautiful fawn,
Saying: Thou hast given to us desire for the mountain and the desert.
The sugar-seller, whose life be long! why
Maketh he no inquiry of the welfare of the parrot sugar of devouring?
O rose! perhaps the pride of beauty hath not given thee permission,
That thou makest no inquiry as to the state of the distraught nightingale.
By beauty of disposition, people of vision one can captivate:
Not by snare and net, take they the wise bird.
I know not why the color of constancy, they have not
Those straight of stature, dark of eye, moon of face.
When thou sittest with the beloved; and drinkest wine,
Bring to mind the beloved ones, wind-measuring.
Of defect in thy beauty, one cannot speak save to this degree
That the way of love and of constancy belongeth not to the lovely face.
On the sky, what if, of Hafezs utterances
Zuhras singing should bring to dancing the Masiha.
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For Gods sake. O pious ones! forth from the hand, goeth my heart. For Gods sake:
O the pain that the hidden mystery should be disclosed.
We are boat-stranded ones! O fair breeze! arise:
It may be that, again, we may behold the face of the Beloved.
For the space of ten days, the spheres favor is magic and sorcery:
O friend! regard as booty, goodness in friends.
Last night in the assembly of the rose and of wine, the bulbul sweetly sang:
O Saki! give wine: O intoxicated ones! come to life!
O generous one! in thanks for thy own safety
One day, make inquiry of the welfare of the foodless darvish.
The ease of two worlds is the explanation of these two words:
With friends, kindness; with enemies, courtesy.
In the street of good name, they gave us no admission:
If thou approve not, change our Fate.
That bitter wine, which the Sufi called The mother of iniquities,
To us, is more pleasant and more sweet than the kisses of virgins.
In the time of straitedness, strive in pleasure and in intoxication:
For, this elixir of existence maketh the beggar Karun.
Dont rebel, due to defiance thou burnt like candle
Darling in whose hands granite is like wax soft
The cup of wine is Sikandars mirror. Behold
So that it may show thee the state of Daras kingdom.
Life-givers, are the lovely ones, Persian-prattling:
O Saki! this news, give to the old men of Fars.
Of himself, Hafez put not on this patched, wine-stained garment
O Shaikh, pure of sins! hold us excused.
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To the Sultans attendants, who will convey this prayer
In thanks for sovereignty, away from sight drive not the beggar?
From the watcher, demon of nature, I take shelter in my God
Perchance that gleaming light may, for Gods sake, give a little aid.
If Thy dark eye-lash made for our blood,
O Idol! think of its deceit; and, make no mistake
When Thou enkindlest thy face, Thou consumest a world,
From this, what profit hast Thou that Thou doest no kindness
All night, in this hope I am that the breeze of dawn,
With the message of lovers, will cherish the lover.
O Beloved! what is the tumult that to lovers thou displayedest
Thy face like the gleaming moon, Thy stature like the heart-ravishing cypress?
O Murshed! to the lover Hafez morning-rismg, give thou, for Gods sake, a draught,
May his prayer of the morning-time avail thee!
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O Sufi! come; for bright is the mirror of the cup:
That thou mayst see the brightness of the wine of ruby hue.
Of profligates intoxicated as the mystery within the veil;
For, this state is not the Zaheds, lofty of degree.
The Anka is the prey of none. Up-pluck thy snare:
For, here ever, in the hand of the snare, is wind.
At times banquet, enjoy one or two cups; and go:
Verily desire not perpetual union.
O heart! youths vigor hath departed; and, from life, thou hast not plucked a single
rose:
Elderly of head, show skill of name and fame.
Strive in the pleasure of the present. As, when no water remained,
Adam let go the garden of the house of safety.
On our part, at thy threshold, many are thy rights of service.
O Sir! again, in pity, look upon thy slave.
The disciple of the cup of Jamshid is Hafez. O breeze, go:
And give salutation from the slave to the Shaikh of Jam.
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O Saki! arise; and give the cup:
Strew dust on the head of the grief of time.
In my palm, place the cup of wine so that, from my breast,
I may pluck off this patched garment of blue color.
Although in the opinion of the wise, ill-fame is ours,
Not name nor fame, do we desire.
Give wine! with this wind of pride, how long,
Dust on the head of useless desire?
The smoke of the sigh of my burning heart
Consumed these immature ones.
Of the secret of my distraught heart, a friend,
Among high and low, none, I see.
Glad is my heart with a hearts ease,
Who, from my heart, once took ease.
At the cypress in the sward, again looketh not
That one, who beheld that cypress of silvern limb.
Hafez! day and night, be patient, in adversity:
So that, in the end, thou mayst, one day, gain thy desire.
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The splendor of youths time again belongeth to the garden;
The glad tidings of the rose reacheth the bulbul sweet of song.
O breeze! if again thou reach the youths of the meadow,
Convey our service to the cypress, the rose, and the sweet basil.
If the young Magian, wine-seller, display such splendor,
I will make my eye-lash the dust-sweeper of the door of the wine-house.
O thou that drawest, over the moon, the polo of purest ambergris,
Make not distraught of state, me of revolving head.
This crowd that laugheth at those drinking the wine-dregs, I fear?
They will, in the end, ruin their Faith.
Be the friend of the men of God; for, in Noahs ark,
Was a little dust, that purchased not the deluge for a drop of water.
Forth from the house of the sphere, go; and bread, seek not.
For, in the end, this dark cup slayeth the guest.
To him, whose last sleeping-place is with two handfuls of earth,
Say Thine what need to exalt the turrets to the sky?
My moon of Kanan! the throne of Egypt is thine:
The time is that when thou shouldst did farewell to the prison.
Hafez! drink wine; practice profligacy and be happy; but,
Like others, make not the Kuran the snare of deceit.
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Last night from the Masjed towards the wine tavern our Pir came:
O friends of the Path! after this, what is our plan?
How may we, disciples, turn to the Kaba, when
Our Pir hath his face towards the house of the Vintner.
In the Fire-worshippers Tavern we also shall be lodging;
For, in the Covenant of eternity without beginning, even so was our destiny.
In the bond of His tress, how happy is the Heart! If Wisdom know,
In pursuit of our tress-chain, the wise will become distraught.
By its grace, Thy beautiful face explained to us a verse of the Koran:
For that reason, in our explanation, is naught save grace and beauty.
A single night, against Thy stony heart, ever effecteth aught
Our sigh, fire-raining and the burning of our heart in the night-time?
Beyond the sphere passeth the arrow of our sigh. Hafez! silence.
Show compassion to thy soul; avoid the arrow of ours.
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Saki! with the light of wine, up-kindle the cup of ours.
Minstrel! speak, saying: The worlds work hath gone to the desire of ours.
In the cup, we have beheld the reflection of the face of the Beloved
O thou void of knowledge of the joy of the perpetual wine-drinking of ours.
Never dieth that one, whose heart is alive with love:
On the worlds record, is written the everlasting existence of ours.
The coy glance and the grace of those straight of stature till
With grace, moving like a lofty pine-tree, cometh the cypress of ours.
O breeze! if thou pass by the rose-bed of beloved ones,
Take care! present to the beloved the message of ours.
From thy memory, our name why purposely takest thou?
Itself cometh, when cometh no recollection of ours.
To the eye of our heart-binding beloved pleasing is intoxication
For that reason, to intoxication they have given the rein of ours.
On the day of up-rising, I fear, a profit taketh not.
The lawful bread of the Shaikh, more than the unlawful water of ours.
Hafez! from thy eye, keep shedding a tear-drop;
It may be, that the bird of union may attempt the snare of ours.
The green sea of sky, and the bark of the new moon,
Are immersed in the favor of Haji Kivam of ours.
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O! the splendor of the moon-beauty from the illumined face of Thine!
The lustre of beauteousness from the chin-dimple of Thine!
My soul at the lip desireth the sight of Thee:
Back it goeth; forth, it cometh; what order is Thine?
By the revolution of Thy eye, none obtained a portion of enjoyment:
Best, that they sell the veil of chastity to the intoxicated ones of Thine.
Our sleep-stained fortune will, perchance, become vigilant,
On that account that a little water on its eye, expressed that gleaming face of Thine.
Along with the wind, send from Thy cheek a handful of roses:
It may be that I may perceive a perfume from the dust of the rose garden of Thine.
O Sakis of the banquet of Jam, long be your life; desire.,
Although our cup be not full of wine at the circulation of yours.
My heart worketh desolation. Inform the heart-possessor:
Verily, O friends, I swear by soul of mine and soul of Thine.
O Lord! when these desires, that are our companions appear,
Collected will be the heart of ours; and dishevelled the tress of Thine.
When by us, Thou passest, from dust and from blood keep far thy skirt:
For, on this Path many a one hath become a sacrifice of Thine.
O breeze! from us, to the dwellers of Yazd say:
The head of those not recognizing truths the polo ball of yours.
From the plain of propinquity, though we be far, not far is desire:
The slave of your King we are, and the praise-utterer of yours.
O King of Kings, lofty of star! for Gods sake, a blessing,
That, like the sky, I may kiss the dust of the court of yours.
Hafez uttereth a prayer. Listen: say an amin!
Be my daily food the lips sugar-scattering of Thine.
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The morning blossometh; and the cloud bindeth a veil:
O companions! the morning cup! the morning cup!
The hail droppeth on the face of the tulip:
O companions! the wine! the wine!
From the sward bloweth the breeze of Paradise:
Then, ever drink pure wine.
In the sward, the rose hath fixed its emerald throne:
Get wine like the fiery ruby!
Again, they have closed the door of the tavern:
O Opener of doors! open!
At such a time, tis wonderful
That hastily they close the tavern.
O cheers to the glamorous Saki
Like Hafez drink pure wine, then.
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I said: O Sultan of lovely ones! show pity to this poor stranger.
He said: In the desire of his own heart, loseth his way the wretched stranger.
To Him, I said: Pass awhile with me. He replied: Hold me excused.
A home nurtured one, what care beareth he for such griefs of the poor stranger?
To the gently nurtured one, asleep on the royal ermine, what grief,
If, should make the couch of thorn; and, the pillow of the hard stone, the poor stranger.
O thou in the chain of whose tress, are the souls of so many lovers,
Happily, fell that musky mole, on thy colored cheek, so strange.
In the color of the moon-like face, appeareth the reflection of wine:
Like the leaf of the Arghavan on the surface of the wild red rose, strange
Strangely hath fallen that ant-line around thy face:
Yet, in the picture gallery the musky line is not strange.
I said: O thou tress of night-hue, the evening of the stranger!
In the morning time, beware, if his need bewail this stranger.
He said: Hafez!, friends are in the stage of astonishment:
Far it is not, if shattered and wretched sitteth the stranger.
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O chaste beloved! Who draweth the fastening of the veil of thee?
O bird of Paradise! grain and water, who giveth thee?
Went sleep from my eye in this liver-consuming thought
Whose bosom is the dwelling and sleeping place of thee
Tue darvish, thou askest not! and I fear that there is
Neither thought of his forgiveness, nor care for his punishment, to thee.
That eye of intoxication struck the path of the lovers heart:
From this way, tis manifest that wine is intoxicated of thee.
The great arrow of a glance that, at my heart, thou castedest, missed:
Let us see what designeth the good judgement of thee.
The wail and plaint that I made, all thou heardest not:
O idol! tis manifest that lofty is the station of thee.
In this desert, the water pool is far. Keep sense,
So that the creatures of the desert, may not, with the mirage, deceive thee.
O heart! while in the path of old age, by what way goest thou?
In mistake, all at once, became expended the season of youth of thee.
O thou heart-kindling palace that art the dwelling of affection,
O Lord! ruined, let not the calamity of time make thee.
Hafez is not a slave who fleeth from his master,
Show a little kindness; come back; for I am ruined through reproach of thee.
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The great curve that, into the bow, thy told eye-brow cast,
In design of the blood of me, miserable, powerless, it cast.
Not the picture of the two worlds was, when was the color of love:
Not at this time, Loves foundation, did Time cast.
With one glance, in boasting, that the Narcissus made
A hundred calamities into the world, thy eyes deceit cast.
Wine drunk, sweat expressed when thou wentest to the sward:
That fire into the ruddy Arghavan, thy sweat cast.
Me, drunken passing the lawn yard
The bud of Thy lips made me think, last night.
The violet fastened u p her twisted tresses:
Before the assembly, the tale of Thy tress, the wind cast.
Through shame of that one who likened it to thy face,
Dust into her own mouth, by the hand of the wind, the lily cast.
Through austerity, I should never have seen the wine or the minstrel.
Into this and into that, desire for young Magians cast.
Now, with water of ruby wine, I wash my religious garment:
From ones self, the lot of eternity without beginning one cannot cast.
Perchance in this disastrous state, was the opening of Hafez,
Whom, into the wine of Magians, the destiny of eternity without beginning cast.
Now, the world becometh to my desire. For times revolution
Me, into the service of the Khwaja of the world, cast.
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From the fire of my heart, my chest in grief for the Beloved consumed.
In this house, was a fire, that the house consumed.
From the farness of the Heart-Ravisher, my body melted:
From Loves fire for the Beloveds face, my soul consumed.
Behold the hearts burning! For, from the great fire of my tears, the candles heart,
Last night, from Loves desire, like the moth, consumed.
Strange it is not that the Friends are heart-consuming:
When out of myself, I went, the strangers heart consumed.
The water of the tavern took my religious garment of austerity:
My house of reason, the fire of the tavern consumed.
As the cup of my heart broke from the repentance that I made,
My liver, like a wine flagon, without wine and the tavern, consumed.
O Admonisher! make little talk; come back. For, the man of my eye
Plucked, from off my head, the religious garment; and, in thanks, consumed.
Hafez! Abandon idle talk; and, awhile, drink wine:
For, last night, we slept not; and, with this idle talk, the candle consumed.
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O Saki! be the coming of the new year auspicious to thee:
And these promises thou madest, let them not go from thy memory.
In astonishment, I am that, at this period of time of separation,
Thou tookest up thy heart from the companions; and he gave thee his heart.
Cause the attendance of the daughter of the vine to reach. Say: come out:
For the breath of resolution of us hath made thee free of the bond.
In the foot of thy arrival, is the joy of the people of the assembly
Griefs place be every heart that joy wisheth thee not!
Thanks to God that from this autumnal wind, no injury received
Thy garden of the jasmine, of the cypress, of the rose, and of the tox-tree.
Far, the evil eye! For, from that separation, happily brought back
Thee, renowned fortune and mother-born luck.
Hafez! From the hand, surrender not association with this Ark of Noah:
If not, thy foundation the deluge of vicissitudes will take.
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O fragrant morning breeze! The Beloveds rest-place is where?
The dwelling of that Moon, Lover-slayer, Sorcerer, is where?
Dark is the night; and in front, the path of the Valley of Aiman:
The fire of Toor where? The time and the place of promise of beholding is where?
Whoever came to this world hath the mark of ruin:
In the tavern, ask ye saying: The sensible one is where?
One of glad tidings is he who knoweth the sign:
Many are the subtleties. The confidant of mysteries is where?
Every hair-tip of mine hath a thousand bits of work with Thee:
We, are where? And, the reproacher, void of work, is where?
Reason hath become distraught: that musky tress, where?
From us, the heart hath taken the corner: the eye-brow of the heart-possessor - is
where?
The cup, and the minstrel, and the rose, all are ready.
But, ease without the Beloved is not attainable. The Beloved is where?
Hafez! grieve not of the autumn wind in the sward of the world:
Exercise reasonable thought. The rose without the thorn is where?
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The fast a side hath gone; and the Id hath come; and hearts have risen:
In the wine-house, the wine hath come into tumult; and it is necessary to ask.
The season of austerity boasters, weighty of life, hath passed:
Hath risen, the time of gladness and of joy-making of profligates.
Him, who like us drinketh the cup, what reproach reacheth?
In regard to the profligate lover, neither is defect, nor is fault.
That wine-drinker in whom is neither the face, nor hypocrisy,
Is better than an austerity-boaster, in whom is the face of hypocrisy.
We are neither hypocritical profligates, nor the companions of hypocrisy:
Witness to this state is He, who is the Knower-of-hearts.
The ordinances of God, we perform; and do evil to none:
Whatever they say is unlawful, we say not it is lawful.
What mattereth it - if thou and I drink some goblets of wine?
Wine is of the blood of grapes; it is not of your blood.
This is not the defect that, from this defect, injury will be:
And if it be the defect, what matter? The man without defect is where?
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Went heart and faith; and the Heart-Ravisher with reproach arose,
And said: Sit not with me; for, from thee, safety hath risen.
Of whom heardest thou, who at this banquet, hath awhile sat happy:
Who, at the end of the companionship, not in remorse hath risen.
If, with its tongue, the candle expressed a boast of that laughing face
In fine, nights before thy lovers, it hath risen.
In the sward, from the border of the rose and the cypress, the spring breeze,
In longing for that cheek and stature of Thine, hath risen.
Intoxicated, Thou passedest by, and from the Khilvatis of angels
The tumult of resurrection at the sight of Thee hath risen.
Before thy gait, from shame its foot uplifted not,
The head-extending cypress that, with grace of stature and of form, hath risen.
Hafez! cast off this religious garment. Perchance thou mayst take thy life:
For, from the religious garment of hypocrisy and of miracle, fire hath risen.
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O Heart-ravisher! thou art not a speech-recognizer. Here, the fault is:
When thou hearest the speech of people of heart speak not saying: A fault it is.
Neither to this world, nor to the next world, boweth my head
Blessed be God! for this tumult that, in our head, is.
Within this shattered heart, I know not who is.
For, I am silent; and in clamour and tumult, it is.
Forth from the screen, went my heart. O Minstrel! where art thou?
Ho! sing. For, on account of this note, in melody, our work is.
To the worlds work, never was attention mine;
In my sight, Thy face its happy adorner thus is.
From a fancy that I mature, nights I have not slept:
Wine-sickness of a hundred nights, I have: the wine-house, where is?
With my hearts blood, thus it is that the cloister became stained:
If ye wash me in wine, lawful at your hand it is?
In the cloister of the magians, me dear they hold for the reason
That, in our heart, a fire that dieth not ever is.
What was the melody that last night, the minstrel played?
Life passed; and yet, full of that melody, my brain is?
Last night, within my heart, the announcement of love for Thee, they gave
Yet, with desire, full of that voice, the plain of my heart is?
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In every path of Islam, the image of Thy face fellow traveler of ours is.
Ever, the perfume of Thy hair, the soul-informer of ours is.
In grief of those claimants, who forbid love,
The beauty of Thy face, the approved argument of ours is.
Behold, what saith the apple of Thy chin!
Many a Yusuf of Egypt fallen into the pit, of ours is.
If to our hand reach not Thy long tress,
The sin of the perturbed fortune, and of the short-hand of ours is.
To the chamberlain of the door of the private chamber, say:
Of those corner-sitting, a certain one, the dust of the court of Ours is.
Although, apparently, He is veiled from our sight,
He, ever, in the sight of the tranquil heart, of ours is.
If, as a beggar, Hafez knock that door, open:
For, it is years since he, desirous of the moon-like face of Ours was.
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From me intoxicated, is the desire of devotion and of covenant, and of rectitude;
For, in Eternity without beginning, I became renowned for wine-drinking.
The every moment when, with the fountain of Love, I performed ablution,
I expressed completely on all that is, four Laudations, Allah Akbar!
Give wine that I may give thee news of the mystery of Fate:
By whose face, I became a Lover; and by whose perfume, intoxicated.
Here, less than the ants waist is the waist of the mountain:
O wine-worshipper! Be not hopeless of the door of Gods mercy.
Save that intoxicated eye the eye reach him not!
None state happy beneath this turquoise vault.
Be my soul the ransom of Thy mouth! For, in the garden of vision,
The Parterre-arrayer of the World established no rose-bud more sweet than this
rose-bud.
Through the fortune of Love for thee, Hafez became a Soleiman:
That is Or Union with thee, he hath naught in hand save wind.
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Blossomed is the red rose; and intoxicated is the nightingale;
The invitation to merriment O Lovers, wine-worshipping!
The foundation of penitence that, firm as a rock, appeared,
How the crystal cup hath shattered it, behold!
Bring wine! for, in the Court of the Independent One,
Whether the shepherd or the Sultan; whether sensible or insensible
Since there is necessity for departing from this Inn of two doors.
The gallery and the arch of thy living, whether lofty or low
Unattainable, is the place of ease without toil:
Yes: with the decree of calamity they established the day of Alast.
Grieve neither at existence nor at non-existence: Be thy mind, happy.
For the end of every perfection that is - is non-existence.
The pomp of being an Asaf, the wind-steed, and the language of birds
Went to the wind; and from them, the Khwaja obtained no profit.
With the wing and the feather go not from the Path. For, the arrow far-flying
Keepeth, the air awhile; but, at last, lieth in the dust.
Hafez! What thanks, uttereth the tongue of thy reed for the reason that
They take the utterance of its speech from hand to hand?
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Tress dishevelled; sweat expressed; lip laughing; intoxicated;
Garment rent; song-singing; goblet in His hand;
Eye, contest-seeking; lip lamenting
Came, at midnight, last night, to my pillow; sate.
To my ear, He brought His head; in a low soft voice,
Said: O my distraught Lover! sleep is thine.
That Aref, to whom they give wine like this, night-watching
Is infidel to love, if he be not wine-worshipper.
O Zahed! go: seize not a small matter against the drinkers of wine-dregs:
For, save this gift, naught did they give us on the day of Alast.
Of whatever, He poured into our cup, we have drunk;
Whether it be of the wine of Paradise, or of the cup of intoxication.
The laughter of the cup of wine; and the knot-seizing tress of the Beloved
O many a repentance, hath it shattered like the repentance of Hafez
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Into the Magians cloister, came my Friend a goblet in His hand:
With wine intoxicated, He with his eye intoxicated the wine-dirnkers.
In His steeds hoof, appeared the form of the new moon
From His lofty stature, low, the stature of the lofty cypress.
Well, wherefore, shall I say: Existence when no knowledge of myself is mine?
Wherefore shall I say: Non-existence when my expectation is with Him?
When He arose, the candle of the heart of friends went out:
When He sate down, the spectators clamour arose.
If noisome civet became fragrant, it was associated with His tress:
If indigo became a bowman, it was associated with His eye-brow.
Come back that Hafezs spent life may come back:
Although the arrow that hath sped from the aim cometh not back.
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By the Khwajas soul, and by ancient right, and by true covenant,
That, at the breath of dawn, prayer for thy welfare is my companion.
My tears, that surpass Noahs deluge,
Have not washed the picture of Thy love from the hearts tablet.
Strike the bargain; purchase this shattered heart,
That, despite its shattered state, is worth many an unshattered.
Against Asaf, the tongue of the ant became long in reproach; and, it is lawful:
For, the Khwaja lost the seal of Jam; and, sought not.
O heart! of the endless kindness of the Friend hope, sever not:
When thou boastest of love, quickly and instantly play thy head.
Be honest and see the sun comes out of thy breath
At the outset, the liar was disgraced.
By Thy hand, I became distraught for the mountain and the plain:
In pity Thou loosest not my waist-chain.
Hafez! grieve not! and constancy from heart-ravishers seek not:
The crime of the garden, what is it, when this grass hath not sprung.
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With fancy for Thee, what desire for wine is ours?
To the jar say: Take thy head; for the jar-house is ruined.
If it be the wine of Paradise, spill it. For without the Friend,
Every draft of sweet water that thou givest is the very essence of torment.
Alas! The Heart-Ravisher nath departed; and in the weeping eye
The picturing of the fancy of a letter from Him is the picture on water.
O eye! be vigilant. For, one cannot be safe,
From this lasting torrent that occurreth in the stage of sleep.
The Beloved One openly passeth, by thee; but
Keepeth seeing strangers. On that account, the Beloved is veil-bound.
Since the rose beheld the grace of sweet on thy colored cheek,
In envys fire, through the hearts grief, it is immersed in rose-water.
The world around is green and so green,
but the world is only a mirage.
In the corner of my brain, seek no place of counsel:
For this cell is full of the hum of the harp and of the ribab.
If Hafez be lover, or profligate, or glance-player, what then?
In the time of youth, many a strange way is necessary.
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With a single hair of its, a thousand hearts, the tress bound,
The path of a thousand remedies bound.
So that all may give their soul to the perfume of the great breeze,
He opened the musk-pod; and, the door of desire bound.
Distraught, I became on that account that, my Beloved, like the new moon
His eye-brow, displayed; gracefully moved; and His face bound.
The Saki poured, into the cup, the wine of many colors:
These pictures, behold how beautifully in the wine-vessel, he bound.
O Lord! What glance of sorcery made the long-necked goglet, that the blood of the jar,
Notwithstanding the sweet sounds of its guggling, its throat bound.
In the circle of sama, what note played the minstrel that
On the people of joy and understanding, the door of lowly matters he bound?
Hafez! Who practiced not love; and union desired
Without ablution, the Ihram of the Tawf of the Kaba, bound.
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What men of our closed circle call the Night of Power to-night is.
O Lord! from what constellation, this effect of fortune is?
In order that the hand of those unfit may rarely reach Thy trees,
Every heart, in the circle, in the prayer of O Lord! O Lord! is.
I am one slain by Thy chin-dimple. For, from every side,
Beneath Thy chin-dimple, many a neck of souls is.
My horseman, the mirror-holder of whose face is the moon,
The crown of the lofty sun, the dust of the hoof of his steed is.
Behold the reflection of sweat on His cheek! For the sun, ardent of face.
As long as it is, daily in desire of this sweat, ardent is.
I will not abandon the ruby lip of the Beloved, nor the wine-cup,
Zaheds! hold me excused: for, my religious order, this is.
Who beneath his eye dischargeth an arrow at my heart,
In the smile beneath His lip the life-sustenance of Hafez is.
The water of life trickleth from the beak of my eloquence.
In Gods name! what a lofty drinker the black crow of my pen is!
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When the form of thy heart alluring eye-brow, God established.
In thy glances, the solving of my work, He established.
From my heart and the heart of the bird of the sward. He took ease,
When, in the morn, the heart of both in lament for thee, He established.
From our work, and from the heart of the rose-bud, a hundred knots it loosed,
When, in desire of thee, its own heart the breeze of the rose established.
With Thy bond, the spheres revolution made me content:
But, what profit, when, the end of the thread in Thy will, it established.
On my wretched heart, cast not a knot like the musk-pod.
For, with Thy tress, knot-loosening, a covenant it established.
O Breeze of union! thou thyself wast another life:
Behold my fault that, hope in fidelity to Thee, my heart established.
l said: On account of thy violence, I shall depart from the city:
Laughing, the beloved spake saying: Hafez! go Thy foot, who established?
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To him that hath chosen solitude, of the spectacle is what need?
When the street of the Beloved is, of the desert is what need?
O Soul! By the need of God that is thine,
At last, a moment, ask, saying: Ours is what need?
O Sovereign of beauty! For Gods sake, I consumed.
At last ask, saying: The beggars, is what need?
We are the Lords of need, and is no tongue to question:
In the presence of the Merciful One, petitioning is what need?
If intention be Thine against our life, there is no need of pretence:
When the chattels are Thine, of plunder, is what need?
The cup, world-displaying is the luminous mind of the Friend:
Then, of the revealing of my own necessity is what need?
Past is that time when I used to bear the burden of favor of the Sailor:
When the jewel appeared, of the Ocean is what need?
O beggar-lover! when the soul-giving lip of the Beloved
Knoweth thee, petitioning for an allowance is what need?
O pretender! go: I have naught with thee:
Dear friends are present. Of enemies is what need?
Hafez! End thy verse: for skill itself becometh clear:
Disputation and contention with the pretender is what need?
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The chamber of vision of my eye is the dwelling of Thine:
Show courtesy, and alight, for this house is the House of Thine.
By the grace of mole and of down. Thou scratchedest the heart of Arefs:
Wondrous, are the subtleties beneath the snare of the grain of Thine.
O nightingale! glad of heart be, in union with the rose;
For, in the sward, the amorous warbling all is thine.
To Thy lip, entrust the remedy for our feeble heart.
For exhilarating is the ruby-medicine, in the treasury of Thine.
In body, unworthy of Thy service am I;
But my soul, its essence is the dust of the threshold of Thine.
Not that one am I to give my hearts coin to every impudent one:
Is the treasure door with the seal of Thine, and the mark of Thine.
O horseman, excellent of work! what a magician indeed thou art,
That an impetuous steed, like the sky, is obedient to the whip of thine.
My place, what? When the sky, the juggler, staggereth
At the sorceries that are in the store-house of pastime of Thine.
Now, the melody of Thy assembly bringeth the sky to dancing;
For, the verse of Hafez, sweet of speech, is the melody of Thine.
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O admonisher! Go about thy own work: what is this tumult?
From the hand, my heart hath fallen: what hath befallen thee?
The connection with Him, which God out of naught hath created
Is a subtlety which no created being hath solved.
So long as His lip causeth me not to reach my desire, like the reed.
In my ear, the counsel of the whole world is like wind.
Independent of the eight abodes of Paradise is the beggar of Thy street:
Free of both worlds is Thy bound captive.
Although loves intoxication hath received me; yet,
By that intoxication, the foundation of own existence is prosperous.
O heart! bewail not of the injustice of Thy beloveds violence. For, the Beloved
Hath thus advised thee: and this is justice.
Hafez! Go; utter no tale; breathe no majestic verse,
For I remember many a one of these wondrous conceits and magic verses.
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Since thy tress-tip, into the power of the breeze, fell,
My distraught heart, into two pieces on account of grief, fell.
In the midst of the dark morning, is thy eye of sorcery:
This is the degree, whereto this prescription, ineffective fell.
That mole in the curve of thy tress knowest thou what it is?
A dot of ink, that, in the curve of Jim fell.
In the rose-bed of the garden of thy cheek, thy musky tress,
What is it? A peacock, that, in the garden of delights, fell.
O Friend of my soul! In desire of thy perfume, my heart,
Behind the wind, as road-dust, fell.
Like the dust, this dusty body cannot rise
From the head of thy street since it severely fell.
O thou of Isa breath! the shade of thy cypress on my body,
Is the reflection of a soul, that, on the rotten bone, fell.
In memory of Thy lip, that one, whose place is none save the Kaba,
I saw that, a dweller, at the Tavern-door, him befell.
O dear soul! With grief for thee, to Hafez heart-lost
Is a great friendship that, in the ancient covenant, fell.
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Come! For most unstable is the foundation of the Palace of Hope:
Bring the cup; for the foundation of Life is on the wind.
Beneath the azure vault, I am that slave of resolution, who
Is free from whatever taketh color of attachment.
What shall I tell thee? Last night, in the wine-tavern, completely intoxicated.
Me, Jibrail of the invisible world gave tidings how glad,
Saying: O Falcon of lofty visions sitting on the Sidra tree
Not thy nest. is this corner full of woe.
From highest Heavens pinnacle, they utter a cry for thee:
In this snare-place, I know not what hath befallen thee.
Counsel, I proffer thee: take it to mind: bring it into action:
For, from the Pir of Tarikat, I recollect this matter.
Suffer not grief for the World: take not my counsel from thy mind:
For, from a wayfarer, I recollect t his sweet saying:
Give contentment to that given; unloose the frown from thy forehead:
For, the door of choice is not open to me and thee.
From the world of unstable nature, seek hot uprightness of covenant:
For, this old woman is the bride of a thousand Lovers.
In the smile of the rose, is no trace of the covenant of fidelity:
O nightingale-lover; beware; for it is the place of wail.
O languid verse! wherefore bearest thou envy towards Hafez?
God-given are the acceptance of the hear;: and the grace of speech
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Without the sun of Thy cheek, light for my day, hath remained not
And of my life, save the blackest night, aught hath remained not.
At the time of farewell to Thee, from much weeping that I made,
Far from Thy face! to my eye, light hath remained not.
From my eye, Thy image departed; and said:
Alas, inhabited, this corner hath remained not.
Union with Thee kept death from my head:
Now, from the fortune of separation from Thee, far, it hath remained not.
Near is that moment when the watcher shall say:
Far, from thy door! That abandoned shattered one hath remained not.
For me, patience is the remedy for separation from Thee. But,
How can one exercise patience when power hath remained not?
In separation from Thee, if to my eye no water remained,
Say: Spill the blood of the liver; for excuse hath remained not.
Through grief and weeping, Hafez engaged not in laughter,
To the grief-stricken one, desire for the feast, hath remained not.
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Of the cypress and the pine, what need hath my garden?
Our box-tree nurtured in the shade, is less than who?
O beloved youth! What religion hast thou adopted,
Wherein our blood is more lawful to thee than mothers milk?
Since, from afar, thou seest the picture of grief, drink wine:
The diagnosis, we have made: certain is the cure.
Forth from the threshold of the Pir of wine-sellers, why draw I my head?
In this his head, is fortune; in this his door, tranquility.
Loves pain is but one tale-no more Wonderful this
That from every one whom I hear, the tale is not repeated.
Last night, He gave promise; and, in His head, had the wine:
To-day, let us see what He saith; in His head is what.
Shiraz and the water of Ruknabad, and the breeze of pleasant air,
Them, contemn not; for they are the lustre of adornment of seven territories of the
world.
From the water of life of Khizr, whose place is the Land of Darkness, it is far
Up to our water, whose fountain is Allah-u Akbar.
We take not the honor of poverty and of contentment:
To the king, speak saying: Daily victuals are destined.
Hafez! how strange, the twig of candy is thy reed,
Whose fruit is more heart-pleasing than honey and sugar.
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Thanks be to God that the door of the wine-tavern open, is.
In such a way that, my face of supplication upon its door is.
Through intoxication, all in tumult and shout are the jars;
And that wine that in that place true is, not illusory, is.
From Him, intoxication, and tumult, and pride: all is.
From us, helplessness, and weakness, and supplication all is.
The mystery that to the people I uttered not, and shall not utter:
To the Friend, I shall utter; for confidant of the mystery He is.
The twist of the tress, curl within curl, the explanation
One cannot shorten; for long this story is.
The load of Majnuns heart; and the curl of Lailas tress
The cheek Of Mahmud and the sole of the foot of Ayaz is.
Like the hawk, I have stitched up my eye from all the world:
Since, on Thy adorned cheek, my eye open is.
Whoever entereth the Kaba of Thy street,
Through the Kibla of Thy eye-brow in the very act of prayer is.
O people of the assembly! the consuming of the heart of poor Hafez
Ask ye the candle that, in burning and melting is.
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Though wine is joy exciting! and the breeze rose-enslaving,
Drink not wine to the sound of the harp. For bold the Muhtaseb is.
If to thy grasp fall a flagon and a Companion,
Drink with reason; for the season, fraught with calamity is.
Conceal the cup in the sleeve of the tattered garment;
For, like the wine-flagons eye, time is blood-shedding.
With the color of wine, we cleanse the religious garments with tears:
For, the season of austerity, and the time of piety it is.
From the revolution of the inverted sphere, seek no sweet pleasure.
For all mixed with dregs the pure of this head of the wine jar is.
The up-lifted sky! Is it not the sieve blood-splattering,
Whose scattering, the head of Kasra and the crown of Parviz is?
O Hafez! thou hast captivated Iraq and Persia.
Come. For the turn of Baghdad, and the time of Tabriz is.
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To utter to thee the state of my heart is my desire:
To hear news of my heart is my desire.
Behold the crude desire-how the well-known tale
To conceal from the watchers is my desire.
A night of power like this, precious and holy,
To sleep with thee till day, is my desire.
Alas! the unique pearl so tender
To pierce in the dark night, is my desire.
O breeze! to-night, give help:
For, in the morning time, to blossom is my desire.
For exaltations sake, with the point of the eye-lash
To sweep the dust of the Path is my desire.
In abhorrence of the claimants, like Hafez
To utter profligate verse is my desire.
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The court of the garden is joy-giving; and the society of friends, pleasant;
Pleasant, be the time of the rose, whereby the time of wine-drinkers is pleasant.
From the morning breeze, momently our souls perfume is pleasant.
Yes, yes. The perfume of desire-possessing spirits is pleasant.
The rose, veil unlifted prepared to depart:
O nightingale bewail; for the plaint of heart-wounded ones is pleasant.
To the night-singing bird, be the good news that, in Loves path,
To the Friend, the vigilant one, weeping at night is pleasant.
In the worlds market, is no happy-heartiness. If there be,
The way of profligacy and of happy-being of hypocrites is pleasant.
From the tongue of the Lily, came to my ear this noble speech,
In the old cloister, the work of those light of burden is pleasant.
Hafez! Abandoning the world is the path of happy-heartiness.
So long as thou thinkest not that the circumstance of World-Possessors is pleasant.
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Now that in the palm of the rose, is the cup of pure wine,
In it praise, is the nightingale with a hundred thousand tongues.
Seek the book of verse and make way to the desert:
What time is this for the College, and the argument of the Kashf-i-Kashshaf?
Yesterday, the Head of the College was intoxicated; and gave decision,
Saying: Wine is unlawful, but better than the property of legacies.
No order is thine for the dregs, or for the pure: Drink happily;
For, whatever our Said did is the essence of grace.
Pluck up thy attachments to the people: take note of the work from the Anka;
For, the clamour of those sitting in solitude is from Kaf to Kaf.
The tale of claimants and the fancy of thy fellow-workers,
Resemble the tale of the gold-stitcher and the mat-weaver.
Hafez! silence: and these subtleties like red gold,
Keep. For the false coiner of the city is the Banker.
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At this time, a friend, who is free from defect,
Is the goblet of pure wine, and the song-book.
Go alone; for the highway of safety is narrow:
Seize the cup; for dear life is without exchange.
In the world, not I alone am distressed from being without work
From learning without doing, is the grief of the learned.
In this thoroughfare full of tumult, to reasons eye,
The World and the worlds work is without permanency and without place.
Seize the tress of the one of moon face, and utter not the tale;
For fortune and misfortune are the effects of Venus and of Saturn.
Great hope of union with thee, had my heart.
But, on lifes path, death is hopes robber.
At no time, will they find him sensible:
For this reason, that Hafez is intoxicated with the cup of eternity without beginning.
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The rose is in the bosom; wine in the hand; and the Beloved to my desire,
On such a day, the worlds Sultan is my slave.
Say: Into this assembly, bring ye no candle for to-night.
In our assembly, the moon of the Friends face is full.
In our order, the wine-cup is lawful; but,
O Cypress, rose of body! without thy face, unlawful.
My ear is all on the voice of the reed; and, the melody of the harp:
My eye is all on Thy ruby lip, and on the circulation of the cup.
In our assembly, mix not Perfume; for our soul,
Every moment, receiveth perfume from the fragrance of the tip of Thy tress.
Say ye naught of the sweetness of candy and sugar;
For my desire is for Thy sweet lip.
From the time when the treasure of grief for Thee was dweller in my ruined heart,
The corner of the tavern is ever my abode.
Of shame, why speakest thou? For from shame is my name:
Of name, why askest thou? For from name is my shame.
Wine-drinker, distraught of head, profligate, and glance-player I am:
In this city, who is that one who is not like this?
To the Muhtaseb, utter not my crime; for he also
Is ever like me in desire of the drinkers of wine.
Hafez! sit not a moment without wine, and the Beloved
Tis the season of the rose, and of the Jasmine, and of the celebration of fasting!
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In the Street of the tavern, every holy traveler, that knew the Path
The knocking at another door, the source of ruin knew.
The diadem of profligacy, Time gave to none save to that one
Who, exaltation of the world in this cup, knew.
To the threshold of the tavern, whoever found a Path,
The mysteries of the cloister from the bounty of the cup of wine knew.
From the Sakis line, whoever read the mystery of both worlds,
The mysteries of Jamshids cup with the pictures of the road-dust knew.
Seek not from us aught save the devotion of the distraught,
For the being wise, a sin, the Shaikh of our religious order knew.
From the eye of the Saki, my heart desired not safety for life;
For the way of that Bold One, black of heart, my heart knew.
From the violence of the constellation of nativity, my eye in the mornings
So wept, that Nahid beheld, and the moon knew.
The tale of Hafez and the cup which he secretly drinketh
What room for the Muhtaseb and the watchman? The king knew.
A king of lofty rank is that one who, the nine halls of the sky,
The form of the curve of the arch of his court, knew.
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From the wines sparkle, the Sufi knew the hidden mystery:
Every ones essence, by this ruby thou canst know.
Only the bird of the morning knoweth the value of the rose bud:
For, not every one that read a page, the meaning knew.
To my work-stricken heart, I offered two worlds.
Save love for Thee, the rest all effacement, it knew.
Passed hath that time, when I thought of the people. Now since
Of this my secret pleasure, the Muhtaseb knew.
The Heart-Ravisher regarded not our ease, times business:
If not, on our part, the heart-expectation, He knew.
The stone and the clay, the ruby and the cornelian, maketh with auspicious glance
Whoever the value of the breath of the breeze of Yaman knew.
O thou that learnest Loves verse from Reasons book!
I fear this subtlety by investigation, thou wilt not know.
Bring wine! for of the rose of the worlds garden, boasteth not.
He who, the robbery of the autumn-wind, knew.
This versified jewel of verse that, from his mind, he evoked, Hafez
The effect of the instruction of Asaf the second, knew.
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The garden of lofty Paradise is the retreat of Darvishes:
Grandeurs source is the service of Darvishes.
The treasure of retirement that hath the tilisms of wonders,
Their revealing is in the mercy-glance of Darvishes.
The palace of paradise, for the door guarding of which, Rizvan went
Is only a spectacle-place of the sward of pleasure of Darvishes.
By whose ray, the dull alloy becometh gold, that
Is an alchemy that is in the society of Darvishes.
Before whom the lofty Sun layeth his crown of glory,
Is a glory that is in the grandeur of Darvishes.
That great fortune, whereof is no grief through the torment of decay,
Hear-ceremony aside, - is the fortune of Darvishes.
The form of the object that the Kings of the world seek,
Its reflection is the mirror of the appearance of Darvishes.
From pole to pole, is the army of tyranny; but
From eternity without beginning to eternity without end is the victory of Darvishes.
O potent one! Boast not all this pomp: for thy
Head and gold are in the keeping of the blessing of Darvishes.
Karuns treasure that, from the wrath, yet descendeth.
That also, thou wilt have read, is from the wrath of Darvishes.
I am the slave of the glance of the Asef of the age who
Hath the form of mastership and of mind of Darvishes.
Hafez! be here with respect. For sovereignty and country,
All are from the service of the majesty of Darvishes.
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In the snare of Thy tress, my heart entangled of itself is.
Slay with a glance; for to it, punishment of itself is.
If from Thy hand issue our hearts desire,
Be at hand: for goodness in place of itself is.
O sweet idol! by Thy soul that like a candle,
In dark nights my desire, effacement of myself is.
O nightingale! when thou expressedest opinion of love, to thee, I said:
Do not; for that rose, self-going, for the sake of itself is.
The perfume of the rose is in no need of the musk of Chin and of Chigal:
For, its pods of musk from the fastenings of the coat of itself is.
Go not to the house of the Lords void of liberality of the age;
For the corner of ease in the dwelling of ones self is.
Hafez consumed; and in the condition of love and of life staking,
Yet, at the head of covenant and of fidelity of himself is.
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The fresh ruby, thirsty for blood the ruby lip of the Beloved of mine is
Yet for seeing Him, life-surrendering the work of mine is.
Of that dark eye and long eyelash, shame be his,
Who beheld His heart ravishingness; in reproach of mine is.
O Camel-driver! to the door, take not my chattels. For that street-end
Is a highway, where the lodging of the heart-possessor of mine is.
I am the slave of my own fortune; for, in this scarcity of fidelity,
Love for that intoxicated idol the purchaser of mine is.
The platter of Perfume of rose, and its casket ambergris diffusing
A little favor of the pleasant perfume of the Perfumer of mine is.
O Gardener! drive me not away like the wind from the door of the garden;
For the water of Thy rose-bed, like the pomegranate, with the tears of mine is.
From my Friends lip, the draft of candy and of rose-water, ordered.
His narcissus that the physician of the sick heart of mine is.
I am the decoration of the ghazal, He who taught subtlety to Hafez,
Sweet of speech, lustrous of talk, the Friend of mine is.
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Tis a time since the passion for idols was my faith:
The pain of this work, the joy of the sorrowful heart of mine is.
For beholding Thy ruby, the soul-seeing eye is necessary:
where this rank for the world-seeing eye of mine is.
Be my friend. For the days decoration and times advancement,
From the moon-face of Thine and from the Pleiades-like tears of mine is.
Since Thy love gave me instruction in speech-uttering,
The practice of the peoples tongue, the praise and the glory of mine is.
O God! keep for me the lot of poverty
For this blessing, the cause of pomp and of power of mine is.
O admonisher, ruler-recognizer! display no pride
For the lodging of the Sultan, the wretched heart of mine is.
O Lord! that Kaba of object is whose place of entertainment,
The mighty thorn of whose Path, the rose and the wild rose of mine is.
Hafez! utter not again the tale of the pomp of Parviz,
Whose lip, the draft-drinker of the sweet Khosro of mine is.
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Such a one am I that the tavern-corner is the cloister of mine:
The prayer from the Pir of Moghan is the morning task of mine.
Although the melody of the harp of the morning be not mine, what fear?
At morning-time my cry is the excuse-utterer of mine.
Of the king and of the beggar, I am free. Thank goodness!
The beggar of the dust of the Friends door is king of mine!
Through the tavern and the Masjed, my desire is union with Thee:
Save this, no fancy have I. God is the witness of mine!
Perchance, with deaths sword, I may up-pluck the tent. If not,
Shunning the door of fortune is not the custom of mine.
From that time when, on that threshold of Thine, I placed my face,
The suns lofty throne was the pillow-place of mine.
Hafez! though sin be not our choice,
Strive in the way of manners; and say: The sin is of mine.
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From weeping, the pupil of my eye seated in blood is,
Behold the state of men in search of Thee, how it is.
To the memory of Thy ruby and wine-like intoxicated eye,
From griefs cup, the wine of that ruby that I drink, blood is.
From the east of the head of the street, the sun of Thy countenance,
If it rise, my fortune auspicious is.
The tale of Shirins lip, Farhads talk is;
The twist of Lailas tress, Majnuns dwelling is.
Seek my heart. For thy stature, like the cypress is heart-seeking.
Utter speech. For thy speech gracious and weighed is.
O Saki! From the circulation of the cup, cause a little mercy to reach my soul:
For, from the grief of the spheres revolution, the hearts sorrow is.
From that time when, from my grasp, went the precious musical chord,
Like the river Jeyhun, my skirts border is.
Gladsome, how may my sorrowful heart become
By the power that beyond my power is?
Through distraughtness, Hafez seeketh for the true Beloved:
Like an indigent one, who a seeker of Qaruns treasure is.
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The curve of Thy tress is the snare of infidelity and of Faith:
This matter is a little from His work-shop.
Thy beauty is the miracle of beauty. But,
The tale of Thy glance is clear magic.
How can one take ones life from Thy bold eye,
That ever is in ambuscade with the bow?
Be a hundred Afarin! on that dark eye,
Which, in lover-slaying is the creator of magic.
A wonderful science is the science of loves form:
For the seventh sky is the seventh land.
Thou thinkest not that the evil-speaker departed, and took his life:
His account is with the two noble recorders.
Hafez! be not secure from the snare of His tress.
That taketh the heart; and is now in fancy religion.
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The heart is the chamber of love of His:
The eye is the mirror-holder of the form of His.
I, who incline not to the two worlds,
My neck is beneath the burden of favor of His.
Thou and the Tuba tree; and we and the form of the Beloved;
Every ones thought is to the limit of ambition of His.
If I be soiled of skirt, what loss?
For the whole world is the evidence of the innocence of His.
I, who am in that holy place, where the breeze
Is the screen-holder of the fold of the dignity of His.
Passed the time of Majnun; and our turn it is:
Every one, a space of five days is the term of His.
The realm of being a lover; and the corner of joy,
All I have is from the favor of the fortune of His.
No fear, if me and my heart pass away
The goal is in between the healthiness of His.
Regard not his external poverty. For Hafezs
Heart is the treasury of the love of His.
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This blackish one, all the sweetness of the world is with him.
The fair eye, the laughing lip, the joyous heart is with Him.
Although those sweet of mouth are Sovereigns, yet
He is the Soleiman of the age; for the seal is with Him.
He is fair of face, perfect in skill, pure of sin;
Verily the spirit of the Pure Ones of the two worlds is with Him.
The black mole that is on that wheat-hued face,
The mystery of that grain, that became the highway robber of Adam, is with it.
My heart-ravisher hath set out on a journey. O friends! for Gods sake,
What shall I do with my wounded heart; for the medicine is with Him.
With whom, can one discuss this matter, that that stoney-hearted One,
Slew us; and the breath of Isa of Maryam is with Him.
Hafez is of the believers. Hold him dear.
For the forgiveness of many a noble soul is with Him.
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The head of our desire, and the threshold of the Mighty Friend:
For, whatever passeth over our head is His will.
My Friends equal, I have not seen; although of the moon and of the shining sun,
The mirrors opposite to the Friends face I placed.
Of our straitened heart, giveth the breeze what news,
That, like the folding of the leaves of the rosebud, tightly folded it is.
Not alone, am I a wine-drinker of this cloister, profligate consuming:
O many a head in this workshop is the dust of the pitcher!
Verily, Thou combedest Thy tress, ambergris-scattering,
Since that the breeze became like civet; and the dust, beperfumed with ambergris.
The sprinkling of Thy face, every rose-leaf that is in the sward:
The ransom of Thy lofty form, every cypress that is on the river-bank.
In the description of His Love, the tongue of speech is dumb:
What room for the reed, split of tongue, folly uttering?
Thy face came into my heart: my desire I shall gain:
For, after the happy omen, is the happy state.
Not, at this time, is Hafezs heart in the fire of search:
For, the bereaved Eternity is like the self-growing wild tulip.
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Of a great favor from the threshold of the Friend, hope mine is;
A great sin I have done; of His pardon hope mine, is.
I know that He will pass by my sin; for
Although, angel-looking He is, of angel-nature, He is.
To such a degree, I wept that every one who passed,
When he beheld running the pearl of our tears, spake saying: This stream what is?
That mouth, no trace whereof I see, is naught:
That waist is only a hair; and I know not what that hair is.
At the picture of Thy form, I wonder saying: How goeth it not
From my eye, whose work, momently, washing and washing is.
Speechless, Thy tress draweth my heart:
Against Thy heart-alluring tress, the way of speech whose is?
A lifetime it is since we perceived the perfume of Thy tress
Yet in the perfume-place of my heart, the perfume of that perfume is.
Hafez! bad is thy distraught state; but,
Good, to the memory of the Friends tress thy distraught state is.
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That envoy, who arrived from the country of the Friend;
And brought the amulet of life from the dark writing of the Friend.
Pleasantly, giveth trace of the Friends grandeur and grace:
Pleasantly, maketh mention of the glory and the greatness of the Friend.
For his glad tidings, I gave him my heart; and, I bear shame
Of this little wealth of my heart wherewith I bescattered the Friend.
Thanks to God that, by the aid of concordant Fortune,
All my work is to the desire of the Friend.
Of the Spheres procession and of the Moons revolution, what power?
I progression, they were by the power of the Friend.
If calamitys Wind dash together the two worlds,
We, and the light ot the eye, and the path of expectation of the Friend.
O morning breeze! Bring me the bejewelled kuhl,
From that happy dust that was the thoroughfare of the Friend.
F
If in design of Hafez, the enemy speak-what fear?
Thanks to God that I am not ashamed of the Friend.
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O Breeze! If thy path should chance by the Land of the Friend.
Bring a fragrant waft of air from the beperfumed tress of the Friend.
By this soul that, in thanks, I will surrender my Life
If thou bring to me a message from the Friend.
And, if, even so, in that Presence, no access be thine
Bring a little dust for my eye from the door of the Friend.
I, The beggar, where? The longing desire for union with Him, where? alas!
Perchance, in sleep, I may behold the form of the aspect of the Friend.
My pine cone-like heart is trembling like the willow,
In envy of the form and the pine-like stature of the Friend.
Although, the Friend purchase us not for even a small thing,
For a whole world, we sell not a single hair from the head of the Friend.
If his heart be free from the bond of grief, what then?
When poor Hafez is the slave and servant of the Friend.
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Welcome! O Messenger of the Longing Ones, give the message of the Friend.
That, with the essence of pleasure, I may make my soul a sacrifice for the Friend.
Wailing and lamenting perpetually is like the nightingale in the cage:
Of parrot-nature am I through love of sugar and of the almond of the Friend.
His tress is the snare; the grain of that snare, his mole; and I,
In hope of that grain, have fallen into the snare of the Friend.
Till the morning of the day of assembling, through intoxication, raiseth not his hand.
Whoever, in Eternity without beginning, drinketh like me a draught from the cup of the
Friend.
A little by way of explanation of my own desire, I uttered not on that account
It is head-pain to show more than this importunity to the Friend.
Into my eye, I put as collyrium, if it be gained,
The dust of the precious path that becometh honored by the footstep of the Friend.
My inclination, towards Union; and His towards separation:
I abandoned my own desire that there might issue the desire of the Friend.
Hafez! In grief for Him, continue to consume; remediless, be content.
On that account, that no remedy hath the restless pain of the Friend.
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Thy face, none hath seen; and a thousand watchers are Thine,
Still in the rosebud, Thine many a nightingale is.
Not so strange is it if to Thy street came
I, since in this country many a stranger is.
In love, the cloister and the tavern are not different:
Wherever, they are, the ray of the true Beloveds face is.
There, where they give splendor to the work of the cloister,
The bell of the Christian monks cloister associated with the name of the cross is.
Lover, who became, at whose state the true Beloved gazed not?
O Sir! there is no pain. Otherwise, the Physician is.
In short, all this lament of Hafez is not in vain:
Both a strange story and a wonderful tale, it is.
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Since the presentation of skill before the Beloved disrespect, is
The tongue, silent; yet, the mouth full of Arabia is.
The Pan concealed her face; and the Div engaged in the glance of beauty.
Through amazement, Reason consumed, saying: What Father of Wonders this is!
In this parterre, none plucked the rose without the thorn.
So the lamp of Mustafa with the flames of Abu Lahab is.
The reason, ask not why the cherisher of the mean, became the sphere,
Whose design of giving, pretence without reason is.
For half a barley-corn, I purchase not the arch of the monastery and of the inn:
Because for me, the tavern is the palace; and the foot of the jar, the pavilion is.
The beauty of the Daughter of the grape is the light of our eye. Perchance,
In the veil of glass, and in the screen of the grape, it is.
A thousand of wisdom and science had I my Lord
Now intoxicated and wasted, the better impolite is.
Bring wine; for, as Hafez, the asking God for aid always
In weeping in the morning-time, and in supplication at midnight is.
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More pleasant than the pleasure and the enjoyment of the garden and the spring is
what?
Where is the Said? Say: The cause of our waiting is what?
Every pleasant moment that appeareth, reckon plunder;
Delay is to none. For the end of work is what?
The fetter of life is bound by a single hair: keep sense:
Be thy own grief-devourer. Times grief is what?
The meaning of the Water-of-Life and the garden of Iram
Save the bank of the rivulet and the wine pleasant-tasting is what?
The austere one and the intoxicated one both are of one family:
To whose glance, shall we give our heart? choice is what?
The secret within the screen, what knoweth the silent sky?
O pretender! thy contention with the screen-holder is what?
If the esteeming rightly the forgetfulness and the negligence of the slave be not His,
The meaning of the Omnipotents pardon and mercy is what?
The Zahed desired the wine of Kousar; and Hafez, the cup:
Let us see between these two, the choice of the Omnipotent is what?
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O nightingale! bewail if, the desire of being a lover with me, thine is.
For, we two are, weeping lovers; and our work, weeping is.
In that land where bloweth the fragrant breeze from the Beloveds tress,
For boasting of the musk-pods of Tatar, what room is.
Bring the wine, wherewith we may becolour the garment of hypocrisy;
For, we are intoxicated with the cup of pride; and the name of sensibleness is.
To devise the fancy for Thy tress, is not the work of immature ones:
To go beneath the chain, the way of a bold one is.
Wherefrom love ariseth, is a hidden subtlety,
Whose name neither the ruby lip, nor the auburn hair is.
The persons beauty is not the eye, nor the tress, nor the cheek, nor the mole;
In this matter many a thousand subtlety, heart-possessing is.
For half a barleycorn Kalandars of the Path purchase not,
The satin coat of that one who void of skill is.
To Thy threshold, one can reach only with difficulty. Yes:
With difficulty, the ascent to the sky of joyousness is.
In the morning, in a dream, I beheld the glance of union with Him:
Oh excellent! when the stage of sleeping better than the waking is.
Hafez! vex not His heart with weeping, and conclude:
For, in little injuring, everlasting safety is.
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O Lord! that candle, night-illuminating, from the house of whom is?
Our soul hath consumed. Ask ye, saying: She, the beloved, of whom is?
Now, the up-setter of my heart and of my religion, she is:
Let us see: she the fellow-sleeper of whom is; the fellow-lodger of whom is:
The ruby-wine of her lip, from my lip, far be it not!
The wine of the soul of whom is? The cup-giver of the cup of whom is?
The Fortune of the society of that candle of happy ray,
Again, for Gods sake, ask ye saying: For the moth of whom is?
For her, every one deviseth a great spell. Yet known it is not,
Her tender heart, inclined to the tale of whom is?
O Lord! that one, king-like, moon of face, Venus of forehead,
The inestimable pearl of whom; and, the incomparable jewel of whom is?
I said Without thee, sigh from the distraught heart of Hafez:
Under the lip, laughing, she spake, saying: He distraught of whom is?
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From the city, my moon went this week; to my eye a year it is:
The state of separation what knowest thou how difficult the state is?
From the grace of her cheek, in her cheek, the pupil of my eye
Beheld its own reflection; and imagined that a musky mole it is.
Milk yet droppeth from her lip like sugar,
Although, in glancing, her every eyelash a slaughterer is.
O thou that art in the city the pointing-stock for generosity,
Alas! in the work of strangers, wonderful thy negligence is.
After this, no doubt is mine in respect of the incomparable jewel;
For, on that point, thy mouth a sweet proof is.
Glad tidings, they gave that thou wilt pass by us
Change not thy good resolve; for a happy omen it is.
By what art, doth the mountain of grief of separation draw
Shattered Hafez, who, through the weeping of his body, like a reed is.
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Who is not fallen into that doubled tress is none;
In whose path is it, that a snare of calamity is none?
Perchance, thy face is the mirror of divine light:
O God! that thus it is; and, in this, dissimulation and hypocrisy is none.
The Zahed giveth me repentance of thy face. O Excellent face!
His, any shame of God; and shame of thy face is none.
For Gods sake, adorn not thy tress; for ours,
Is no night when, with the morning wind, many a conflict is none.
O candle, heart-kindling! com bake; for, without Thy face,
At the banquet of companions, the effect of light and of purity is none.
The consoling of travellers is the cause of excellent mention;
O soul! in your city, this rule is none.
Last night, He went; and I said: O idol! fulfill Thy covenant:
He said: O Khwaja! thou art in error: fidelity in this covenant is none. I,
Since from the corner-sitters Thy eye ravished my heart:
To be thy train, a sin on our part is none.
If the Pir of the magians become my Murshid what difference?
There is no head, in which a mystery of God is none.
Against the, to speak saying: I am the fountain of light.
Worthy Suha, the great ones know is none.
In the cloister of the Zahed; and in the chamber of the Sufi
Save the corner of Thy eye-brow, the arch of prayer is none.
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A gazer, save upon Thy face, the pupil of our eye is not.
A remembrancer save of Thee, our overturned heart is not.
My tear bindeth the Ihram of the Tawaf of Thy sacred enclosure.
Although pure blood of the blood of my wounded heart, it is not.
Be bound in the snare of the cage like the wild bird
If, flying in search of Thee, the bird of Sidrah is not.
If the poor lover scattered the counterfeit coin of his heart,
Censure him not, for potent as to current coin he is not.
In the end, to that lofty cypress, reacheth the hand of him,
Whose spirit in search of Thee, defective is not.
Before Thee, I boast not of Isas life-giving;
For like Thy lip, in soul-refreshing, expert he is not.
I who, in passions fire for Thee, express no sigh,
How can one say: As to the stains of my heart, patient He is not.
The first day, when I beheld Thy tress-tip I spake,
Saying: End to this chains confusion is not.
The desire of union with Thee alone, to Hafezs heart is not:
Who is he in whose heart desire of union with Thee is not?
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The Zahed, outward worshipper! Of our state, knowledge is none.
In respect of us, whatever he saith, room for abhorrence is none.
In Tarikat, whatever befalleth the holy Traveler is his welfare:
O heart! In the straight highway, road lost is none.
That we may see how the game turneth, a pawn, I will move.
The power of Shah to the chess-board of profligates is none.
What is this lofty roof, smooth, with many pictures?
In the world, acquainted with this mystery, Sage there is none.
O Lord! Who is this independent One? What is this powerful creed?
For this is all internal wound; but power of sigh is none.
Thou mayst say: The Lord of the Secretariat knoweth not the account:
For, in this imperial signature, trace of Hasbatanu-li-llah is none.
Whoever wisheth, say: Come: Whoever wisheth, say: Speak:
In this Court is neither arrogance nor haughtiness; chamberlain, or door-keeper, is
none.
To go to the Tavern-door is the work of those of one color:
For the Self-sellers, path. into the street of the Wine-Sellers, is none.
Whatever unfitness there is, is by reason of our unfit, formless form:
If not, on a persons stature, thy dress of honor, short is none.
I am the slave of the Pir of the tavern, whose favor is constant:
If not, the favor of the Shaikh and of the Zahed, is sometimes; and, sometimes is none.
If, through lofty spirit, Hafez sit not on the chief seat,
The Lover, dregs of wine drinking, in the bond of property and of rank is none.
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Loves path is Path whereof the shore is none:
And there, unless they surrender their soul, remedy is none.
Every moment that to love thou givest thy heart is a happy moment,
In the right work, need of praying to God to be directed aright is none.
With reasons prohibition, affright us not; and bring wine:
In our Land, the work of the watchman, work is none.
Ask thou thy own eye Who draweth us?
O soul! the sin of fortune and the crime of the star is none.
Him, one can see with the pure eye like the crescent moon:
The place of splendor of that moon-fragment, every eye is not.
Reckon as plunder the path of profligacy. For this track,
Like the path to the treasure, evident to every one is not.
In no way, Hafezs weeping affected thee
Astonishment mine at that heart, which less hard than the stone is not.
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From the ray of Thy face, luminous a glance is not. that is not:
The favor of the dust of Thy door, on an eye is not, that is not.
Those possessed of sight, are the spectator of Thy face. Yes:
The desire of Thy tress, in any, a desire is not, that is not.
If through my grief for Thee, my tear issue red, what wonder?
Ashamed of that done by himself, a screen-holder is not that is not.
So that on Thy skirt, a little dust may not settle,
The torrent of tears from my vision, a great pathway is not that is not.
So that, everywhere, it may not boast of the evening of Thy tress-tip,
Conversation with the breeze, mine a morning is nor that is not.
On me, wherefore bindest thou the girdle of malice, when of love
On the waist of my heart and soul, a girdle is not, that is not.
O sweet fountain! from the modesty of Thy sweet lip,
Now, steeped in water and sweat, a piece of sugar is not, that is not.
No good counsel is it that the mystery should fall out of the screen.
And, if not, in the assembly of profligates, a piece of news is not that is not.
In the desert of love for Thee, the lion becometh the fox:
Alas, this Path! wherein a danger is not that is not.
The water of my eye, whereon is the favor of the dust of Thy door
Under a hundred favors of His. the dust of a door is not that is not.
From the head of Thy street, I cannot go a step:
And, if not, in the heart of the heart-bereft, a journey is not that is not.
Save this subtlety that Hafez is not pleased with thee,
Wholly, in thy existence, a skill is not, that is not.
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The produce of the workshop of existence and dwelling all this is naught;
Bring wine. For the goods of the world all this is naught.
The desire of the heart and of the exalted soul is the society of the Beloved:
All that is; and, if not, heart and soul, all this is naught.
For the sake of shade, endure not the favor of the Sidra and the Tuba tree
For, O moving cypress, when well thou lookest, all this is naught.
Fortune is that which, without the hearts blood, cometh to the bosom:
And, if not, the garden of the Beloved with effort and toil all this is naught.
A space of five days that thou hast in this stage of favor;
Rest pleasantly awhile. For Time all this is naught.
O Saki! We are waiting on the shore of the ocean of death
Regard again. For from lip to mouth all this is naught.
Zahed! beware; be not secure of the sport of pride
For the path from the cloister to the temple of the Magians, all this is naught.
Wailing and weeping have consumed me sorrowful:
The need of narrating and of explaining apparently all this is naught.
The name of Hafez accepted the writing of honor;
But, in the opinion of profligates, the writing of profit and of loss all this is naught.
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Save Thy threshold, my shelter in the world is none.
Save this door, my fortress-place is none.
When the enemy draweth the sword, we cast the shield:
For save weeping and wailing, our sword is none:
From the tavern-street, why turn I away my face?
For better than this, in the world, my way and path is none.
If, into the harvest of my life, Time cast fire,
Say: Consume; for, equal to a little blade of grass, in my opinion, it is none.
I am the slave of the saucy eye of that straight stature,
From whose wine of pride, at any one, glance is none.
Be not in the pursuit of injury: do whatever thou desirest:
For in our Shariat, save this, a sin is none.
O King of the dominion of beauty! go rein drawn:
For at the head of a street, is it not a justice-seeker is none?
Thus it is, that, in every direction, I behold the snare of the Path:
Save the shelter of His tress, my shelter is none.
To the tress and the mole give not the treasure of the heart of Hafez;
For deeds like these, the power of every black one is none.
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A nightingale had a rose-leaf, pleasant of hue in his beak,
And, on that leaf and pleasant food, bitter lamentation held.
To him, I said: In the very time of union wherefore is this lament and cry?
He said: In this work of lament, me the beloveds beauty held.
If the true Beloved sate not with us beggars, room for complaint is none;
King, prosperous was He; shame of beggars, He held.
Our supplication and entreaty affect not the Friend possessed of beauty,
Happy he, who from beloved ones, the fortune of prosperity held.
Arise! so that on the reed of that Painter, we may scatter our soul;
For, all this wonderful picture, in the revolution of His compass, Lie held.
If thou be a disciple of loves Path, defame not:
Pawned at the vintners house, his religious garment Shaikh Sanan held.
Happy, the time of that gentle Kalandar who, in the paths of wandering,
Mention of the rosary of the King, in the girdle of the Zunnar, held.
Below the roof of the palace of that beloved of Hun-nature, the eye of Hafez
The way of paradise, beneath which streams are flowing, held.
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Thou sawest that, save the desire of violence and of tyranny, my beloved aught had
not.
He shattered the covenant; and, on account of our grief, grief had not.
O Lord! take him not. Although my heart, like the pigeon,
He cast down and slew; and respect for the prey of the sacred enclosure had not.
Against me, on account of my fortune, came this violence. If not the Beloved,
Save the way of courtesy and the path of liberality, aught had not.
With ail this, every one who endured from Him no contempt,
Everywhere he went, him honored any one had not.
Saki! bring wine; say to the Muhtaseb:
Deny us not. For such a cup Jamshid had not.
Every way-farer who took not the path to the sacred enclosure of His door,
Unhappy, traveled the valley; yet, the path to the sacred enclosure had not.
Hafez! do thou take the ball of eloquence. For the claimant,
His was no skill at all; and any information, he had not.
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Now, that the fragrant breeze of Paradise bloweth from the rose garden.
I and the wine, joy-giving and the Beloved angel.
To-day, why boasteth not the beggar of empire?
For his pavilion is the Clouds shade; and his banquet place, the fields border.
The sward uttereth the tale of the April:
No Aref is he, who purchased a loan; and let go cash.
With wine make the building of the heart. For this evil world
Is bent on that it may make a brick of our dust.
From the enemy, seek not fidelity. For, a feeble ray it giveth not,
When thou kindlest the candle of the cloister from the lamp of the church.
For recorded blackness, reproach not me intoxicated:
Who knoweth what Fate hath written on his head?
From the bier of Hafez, keep not back thy foot:
For though he be immersed in sin, he goeth to paradise.
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O Zahed, pure of nature! censure not the profligates;
For, against thee, they will not record anothers crime.
If I be good, or if I be bad. Go thou: be thyself:
In the end, every one reapeth that work that he sowed.
Every one, whether sensible or insensible, is the seeker of the Beloved:
Every place, whether the Masjed or the church, is the house of love.
My head of submission and the brick of the Tavern-door:
If the complainant understand not this speech, say: Thy head and brick.
Of the former kindness in eternity without beginning, make me not hopeless:
What knowest thou, behind the screen who is good, who is bad?
From the cell of piety, not only I fell out:
My father also let go from his hand Paradise of Eternity without end.
O Hafez! If, on the day of death, thou bring a cup.
Immediately, they will take thee from the street of the tavern to Paradise.
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At dawn, the bird of the sward spake to the rose:
Display less disdain; for, in this garden many a one like thee hath blossomed.
The rose laughed saying: We grieve not at the truth; but
No lover spoke a harsh word to the beloved.
If thou desire ruby wine from that begemmed cup,
O many the pearl that it is necessary for thee to pierce with the point of thy eyelash.
To eternity without end, the perfume of love reacheth not the perfume place of him
Who, with his face, swept not the dust of the door of the tavern.
Last night, in the Paradise, when from the bounty of the air,
The tress of the hyacinth was disturbed by the morning breeze,
I said: O throne of Jamshid! thy cup world-displaying, where?
It said: Alas! wakeful fortune slept.
Not that which cometh to the tongue is the talk of love:
O Saki! give wine; make short this uttering and hearing.
Into the sea, the tear of Hafez hath cast wisdom and patience:
What shall he do? The consuming of loves grief, he cannot conceal.
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That Bold One of Angel-face who, last night, by me passed,
What sin saw He that, by way of sin, He passed?
Since from my sight, went that world-seeing eye,
None knoweth what tears from my eye have passed.
Last night from the passing of the heart s fire to the candle passed not
That smoke that, to our head, from the livers consuming passed.
Far from His face, momently, from the fountain of my eye,
A torrent of tears came; and the deluge of calamity passed.
From our feet, we fell when separations grief came:
In grief we remained when from the hand, the remedy passed.
The heart said: With prayer, one can again obtain union with Him.
Tis a life-time since my life all in the work of prayer passed.
Wherefore do I bind on the pilgrim-robe, for that Kaba is not here?
In effort, wherefore do I strive since from Kaba, he hath passed?
Yesterday, with the essence of the pity, when he beheld me, the physician said:
Alas! beyond the rules of cure, thy grief hath passed.
O friend! for asking Hafez plant thy foot
Before that time when they shall speak saying,: From the frail house he hath passed.
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If from the hand of Thy musky tress, a fault passed, it passed:
And, if against us from Thy dark mole, an act of tyranny passed, it passed.
If, the harvest of one wool-clad, Loves lightning consumed, it consumed:
If, against a beggar, the violence of the prosperous king passed, it passed.
In Tarikat, is no grief of heart. Bring wine:
Every impurity that thou seest, when, purity passed, it passed.
O heart! keep firm of foot. For love-playing, endurance is necessary:
If a vexatious matter was, it was; if a tyrannous matter passed, it passed.
If, from the Heart-possessors glance, a load a heart bore, it bore:
Between the soul and the true Beloved a matter passed, it passed.
From carpers, reproaches appear; but,
If, among fellow-sitters, aught unfit passed, it passed.
O admonisher! say: Censure not Hafez who hath gone from the cloister.
How bindest thou the foot of a free one? If to a place he passed, he passed.
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O Saki! bring wine; for the fasting month hath passed.
Give the goblet; for the season of name and fame hath passed.
Dear time hath passed. Come; let us repeat the omitted prayers
Of a long life that without the presence of a goglet and of the cup hath passed
Make me intoxicated even so that from selflessness I shall not know,
In the plain of imagination, who hath come, who hath passed.
In the smell that a draught of Thy cup may reach us,
In the inn, every morning and evening, prayer to Thee hath passed.
To the heart that was dead, a great life reached the soul,
Since into its perfume-place a perfume, from Thy breeze, hath passed.
The Zahed had pride; took not the path to safety:
By the path of supplication, the Profligate to the House of Safety hath passed.
The cash of the heart that was mine became expended in wine:
It was counterfeit coin. Therefore into the unlawful it hath passed.
Like aloe-wood, how long can one consume in the torment of repentance?
Give wine. For life in the essence of raw madness hath passed.
Again counsel not Hafez; for the path of austerity, found not,
A lost one, to whose palate the sweet wine hath passed.
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From His lip of ruby, a draft we tasted not; and He departed:
His face, moon of form, we beheld not to our fill; and He departed.
Thou mayst say: By our society, He hath become greatly straitened.
His chattels, He bound up: about him, we arrived not, and He departed.
Many the Fatiha and the Harz-i-Yamani that we recited:
After that, we murmured the wholeheartedness, and He departed.
A glance, He gave saying: From the street of desire, I depart not:
Thou sawest how, at last, we purchased the glance, and He departed.
Proudly moving, He went into the sward of beauty and of grace. But,
In the rose garden of union with Him, we moved not, and He departed.
All night, weeping and wailing, we did like Hafez:
For alas! for bidding Him farewell, we arrived not, and He departed.
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Saki! come; for the true Beloved hath taken up the veil,
The work of the lamp of the Khilvatis again kindled.
That candle head uplifted again enkindled its face,
And youth from his head, this Pir years endured took.
The true Beloved gave that glance, such that piety departed from the path,
And the Friend exercised that kindness, that the enemy caution took.
From the sweet and heart-ravishing example, shelter:
Thou mayst say Thy mouth speech into sugar took.
The load of that great grief that had wounded our heart,
God sent one of Isa-breath: up, he took.
Every cypress-stature, that boasted beauty over the sun and the moon,
When Thou camest, the pursuit of other work took.
Full of clamour of this tale, are the seven vaults of the sky.
Behold the short-sighted one who, the tale short, took!
Hafez! from whom hast thou learned this prayer, that the beloved
Made thy verse an amulet; and it, into gold, took.
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By concord with darkish beauty, the world Thy beauty took.
Yes; by concord, the world one can take.
The revealing of the mysteries of the Khilvatis, the candle wished to make:
Thanks to God! that its tongue, the hearts desire kindled.
From out of this concealed fire that is in my chest,
A flame is the sun that the sky, kindled.
The rose wished to boast of the color and the perfume of the Friend:
In jealousy of it, its breath, in its mouth the breeze took.
Rested apart, I was like the compass:
At last, me, into the center, like a point, Time took.
Desire of the cup of wine consumed my harvest that day,
When, from the reflection of the Sakis cheek, fire kindled.
e
To the street of the magians, I wish to go, shaking my sleeve,
Of these calamities, that, the skirt of times end took.
Drink wine. For, whoever, at the end of work, beheld the world,
From grief, came forth light; and, the heavy cup of wine, took.
With the blood of tulips, on the rose-leaf, they have written
Saying: Wine like the ruddy Arghavan that one, who became mature, took.
Hafez! like water, grace trickleth from thy verse:
On it, nice distinction, the envious one how took?
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I heard a pleasant speech that the old man of Kanan uttered:
Separation from the true Beloved maketh not that which can be uttered.
The tale of terror of the resurrection day, which the city-admonisher uttered?
Is a hint, which, of the time of separation, he uttered.
Of whom, may I ask the trace of the Beloved, many a journey made?
For whatever the winds messenger uttered, confusedly he uttered.
Alas! that unkind moon, the Friends enemy,
For the abandoning the society of his own lovers, how easily he uttered!
After this I and the stage of contentment, and thanks to my rival:
For accustomed to pain by thee, my heart hath become; and the abandonment of
remedy uttered
With wine of many years, repel ye the old grief:
For, the seed of happy-heartedness is this. It, the Pir of the village uttered.
Fix not a knot on the wind though, on thy object, it favorably blow,
For to Soleiman this speech, as a proverb, the wind, uttered.
For a frivolous excuse that the sky may give thee, go not from the Path
Who told thee, that, the abandoning of tales, this old woman uttered.
As to how and why, express no breath. For the happy slave
Accepteth with soul every word that the Sultan uttered.
From thought of thee, who said Hafez hath come back?
This, I have not said. He who uttered it, calumny uttered.
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O Lord! devise a means, whereby in safety my Beloved
May come back, and release me from the claw of reproach.
Bring ye the dust of the Path of that traveled Beloved
That I may make my world-seeing eye His sojourn-place.
Justice! For, they have barred my Path on six sides
That mole, beard, tress, face, cheek, and stature.
To-day, when I am in thy hand, show a little mercy.
To-morrow, when I become clay, what profit are tears of repentance?
O thou that of love expressest breath in relating and explaining,
With thee no word have we save this Prosperity and safety be thine!
Darvish! Lament not of the sword of friends;
For this band taketh the blood-price for the slain.
Set fire to the religious garment; for the curve of the Sakis eye-brow
Shattereth the corner of the prayer-arch of the service of the Imam.
God forbid that of thy violence and tyranny I should bewail:
The injustice of dainty ones is all daintiness and goodness.
The argument of thy tress-tip, Hafez shorteneth not:
This chain is joined to the day of resurrection.
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O lapwing of the east wind! to Saba, I send thee:
Behold from where to where, I send thee!
Alas! a bird like thee in the dust-heap of grief:
Hence to the nest of fidelity, I send thee.
In loves Path, is no stage of nearness or of farness:
I clearly see Thee; and prayer, I send Thee.
Every morning and evening, the Kafila of prayer for Thy welfare,
In company with the north and the east wind, I send Thee.
So long as griefs army ruineth not the hearts country,
Words and odes, with melody and modulation, I send thee.
O Fellow-sitter of my heart! Thou that becomest hidden from sight,
Prayer, I utter for Thee; praise, I send Thee.
The creation of God, behold in thy own face;
For the mirror, God-displaying, I send thee.
Saki! come; for the invisible messenger uttered to me glad tidings,
In pain, exercise patience; for the remedy of union, I send Thee.
Hafez! the song of our assembly is the mention of thy welfare:
Make haste. A horse and a coat, I send Thee.
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O hidden from sight! to God, I entrust, thee.
Thou consumedest my soul; yet with heart, friend I hold thee.
So long as I trail not the skirt of my shroud beneath the foot of the dust,
Believe not, I will keep hand from off the skirt of thee.
Display the prayer-arch of thy eye-brow, that, in the morning-time,
I may bring forth my hand of prayer and bring it upon the neck of thee.
If it be necessary for me to go to Harut of Babil,
A hundred kinds of sorcery I will evoke to bring thee.
O faithless physician! I wish to die before thee.
Ask the sick; for I am in expectation of thee.
I weep; and, from this tear, torrent raining, my hope
Is that loves seed, I may plant in the heart of thee.
Hafez! wine, and the mistress, and profligacy are not thy way of life:
Wholly thou doest; and I pardon thee.
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What kindness it was when, suddenly, the dropping of thy pen
Represented the obligations of our service according to the goodness of thee.
To me, salutation thou hast written with the nib of the pen:
Be not the work of Times house without the writing of thee!
I say not in mistake, thou recollectedest me, heart bereft:
For, in wisdoms account, mistake lieth not in the pen of thee.
Despicable, make me not in thanks for this favor
That lasting Fortune, dear and honored, held thee.
Come. For, by thy tress-tip, I will vow
That if my head goeth, I will not uplift it from the feet of thee.
Of the state of us, thy heart may become acquainted; but at the time,
When the tulip blossometh from the dust of those slain of grief for thee.
With a draught, assist the soul of us thirsty
When, from the cup, the limpid water of Khizr they give thee.
O Isa-breeze! happy ever be all thy time
For alive became the heart-broken soul of Hafez by the breath of Thee.
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On account of that heart-cherishing beloved, thanks with complaint are mine:
If thou be a subtlety-understander of love list well to this tale.
Rewardless was and thankless every service that I rendered:
O Lord! void of kindness let none be the served one.
To profligates, thirsty of lip, none giveth a little water:
Thou mayest say: Those recognizing holy men have departed from this land.
O heart! In His tress-like noose, twist not; For, there,
Thou seest severed heads, crimeless, guiltless.
With a glance, Thy eye drank our blood; and Thou approvest:
O Soul! lawful is not protection to the blood-shedder.
In this dark night, lost to me became the path of my purpose:
O Star of guidance! come forth from the corner.
From every direction, where I went naught increased to me save terror.
Beware of this desert, and of this endless Path.
Of this Path, the end openeth no form
For, in its beginning, are a hundred thousand stages more.
Although, thou snatchedest my honor, I turn not my face from Thy door:
More pleasant is violence from the Beloved, than from the enemy, courtesy.
To thy complaint, love reacheth, if like Hafez
Thou recite the Kuran with the fourteen traditions.
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Ever intoxicated keepeth me the waft of air of the tress-curl of Thine.
Momently ruined maketh me the deceit of the eye of sorcery of Thine.
O Lord! after such patience, one can see a night
Whereon, we may kindle the candle of our eye in the prayer-arch of the eye-brow of
Thine.
The black tablet of vision, I hold dear for the sake
That to the soul, it is a book of the picture of the dark mole of Thine.
If Thou wish perpetually to adorn the world altogether
Tell the breeze that it should uplift awhile the veil from the face of Thine.
And if Thou wish to cast out from the world the custom of effacement.
Scatter that it may shed thousands of souls from every hair of Thine.
Wretched, I and the morning breeze; two heads, revolving without profit:
Intoxicated, I, from the sorcery of the eye of Thine; it, from the perfume of the tress of
Thine.
O excellent! the spirit that Hafez hath of this world and of the next world
Naught cometh into his eye, save the dust of the head of the street of Thine.
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My heart, in desire of the face of Farrukh,
Is in confusion like the hair of Farrukh.
Save the Hindu of his tress, is none,
That enjoyed prosperity from the face of Farrukh.
The. black of good fortune is that which ever
Is the fellow-traveller and the fellow knee-sitter of Farrukh.
Like the trembling aspen, becometh the cypress of the garden,
If it see the heart-alluring stature of Farrukh.
O Saki! give wine of Arghavan hue
To the memory of the eye of sorcery of Farrukh.
Bent like a bow, became my stature
From grief continuous as the eyebrow of Farrukh.
The breeze of the musk of Tatar, ashamed made
The perfume of the tress of ambergris of Farrukh.
If to a place, be the inclination of any ones heart,
The inclination of my heart is towards of Farrukh.
I am the slave of resolution of that one who is
Like Hafez, the attendant of the black of Farrukh.
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Yesterday, the Pir, the wine-seller whose mention be for good!
Said: Drink wine; and, from recollection, take the hearts grief.
I said: To the wind, wine giveth my name and fame:
He said: Accept the word: be whatever be.
Since, from thy hand, will go profit and loss and capital,
Say: For this matter, neither noyous nor joyous be!
In thy hand is only wind, if thou place thy heart on any thing:
In a meeting-place where to the wind, Soleimans throne goeth.
Hafez! if thine be vexation on account of the counsel of the sages,
Let us make short the tale, saying: Long life be thine!
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October 2001
Ghazal of Hafez Shirazi

In Persian with English translation
Original Translation by Henry Wilberforce Clarke (1840-1905)
Part 2 (version 1.03)
Compiled and Corrected by

far@acm.org
Preface
The translations appearing in this collection are by Henry Wilberforce Clarke who used the
Upjohns Calcutta version (1791) of Divan of Hafez in 1891. The original Calcutta edition had a
number of mistakes and it is verified that some of the poems do not belong to Hafez and are added
afterwards. The most reliable edition of Divan is published at Tehran in 1320/1941 under the
editorship of Mirza Mohammad Qazvini and Dr Qasem Ghani. This edition has admitted 495
ghazals as unquestionably genuine, beside 3 qasidehs, 2 mathnavis, 34 occasional pieces
(muqattaat) and 42 robais, a total of 573 poems. I have selected those poems that appear in
Qazvini and Ghani edition and partially rewritten some of the translations to be more poetic and
understandable.
2001/10/6
Calgary, Canada
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Wine and hidden pleasure, what are they? Baseless work.
On the ranks of profligates we dashed. What is fit to be-be!
Unloose the hearts knot; and, think not of the sky:
For such a knot, the thought of no geometrician hath loosed.
At Times changes, wonder not. For the sphere
Recollecteth many a thousand tales of this.
With respect, take the goblet. For its composition
Is of the skull of Jamshid, of Bahman, and of Kubad.
Where Kawoos and Kay went, who is informed?
How Jamshids throne went to the wind who is informed?
From passion for Shirins lip, yet I see
That, from the blood of Farhads eye, the tulip blossometh.
Perchance the tulip knew Times unfaithfulness:
For, since she was torn and become, from out of her hand she hath not placed the cup
of wine.
Come! come! so that, awhile, with wine ruined we may become:
Perchance, to that great fortune, we may, in this ruined place, reach.
For wandering and journeying, me, permission give not
The breeze of Musallas dust, and the water of Roknabad.
Like Hafez take not the cup save to the sound of the harp:
For, to the silk of joy, they have bound the glad heart.
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Last night, the news of the beloved, journey-made, gave the wind:
To the wind, I also give my heart. Whatever it be-be.
To that, my work reached that, my confidant I make
Every evening the flashing lightning; and, every morning, the wind.
In the curl of thy tress, my heart void of protection,
Ever said not: Of my accustomed abode, recollection be.
To-day, I recognized the value of the counsel of those dear:
O Lord! joyous by Thee, the soul of our adviser be.
In memory of thee, blood become my heart, whenever, in the sward,
The fastening of the rose-buds coat, loosed the wind.
From my hand, had gone my feeble existence:
In the morning, by the perfume of thy tress, gave back life, the wind.
Hafez! thy desire, thy good disposition bringeth forth:
The ransom of the man of good disposition, souls be.
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The day of union of friends remember:
Those times, remember, remember!
From the bitterness of grief my palate hath become like poison:
The tumult of the drinking of wine-drinkers, remember!
Although free of recollection of me, are friends
Them, on my part a thousand times, remember!
Entangled, I am in this bond of calamity:
The endeavor of those upright ones, remember!
Although in my eye, are a hundred streams
The Zende-rud of gardeners, remember!
After this, the mystery of Hafez un-uttered remaineth:
Alas! the mystery-keepers, remember!
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The sun of every vision, Thy beauty be
More beautiful than the beauty, Thy beautiful face be.
Of the Homa of Thy tress, the falcon of long-wing feather,
Beneath the wing, the heart of the kings of the world be!
To Thy tress, that one who is not attracted:
Like Thy tress, tossed and confused be.
Of Thy face, that heart that is not the lover,
In liver-blood, ever drowned be.
O idol! When Thy glance casteth the arrow
Before it, my wounded heart, the shield be.
When Thy sugary ruby giveth the kiss
From it, the taste of my life, full of sugar be.
Momently mine, is a great fresh love for Thee:
Hourly, Thine another great beauty be!
With soul, Hafez is desirous of Thy face.
On the state of desirous ones, Thy glance be.
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If, to limit, the Sufi drink wine to him, sweet may it be!
If not, the thought of this work of his, forgotten be!
That one who can give up a single draft of wine,
With the Beloved of his desire his hand in his bosom, be.
Said our Pir: On the Creators pen, passed no error:
On his pure sight, error-covering, afarin be!
The King of the Turkans heard the speech of the adversaries:
Of the oppression of Siyawash, his a great shame be!
Although, through pride, he uttered no word to me, the poor darvish;
A ransom for His sweet, silent, pistachio nut, my life be!
Of the number of mirror-holders of his line and mole, my eye became:
Of the number of the kiss-snatchers of his bosom and back, my lip be.
The intoxicated narcissus, favor-doer, ma n-preserver;
If it drink lovers blood in a goblet, to it sweet may it be!
Hafez! in thy service, the world became famous:
In its ear, the ring of service of thy tress, be!
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In need of the physicians care, thy body be not;
Vexed by injury, thy tender existence be not!
The safety of all horizons is in thy safety.
By any accident, sorrowful thy person be not!
The beauty of the outward and of the inward is from the prosperity of thy well-being:
Outwardly anguished, inwardly afflicted, thou be not!
In this sward, when autumn entereth upon plundering,
To the straight cypress of lofty stature, its path be not!
In that place where thy beauty beginneth splendor,
The power of reproach of the ill-seer and of the ill-approver be not!
Every one, who, with the evil eye, beholdeth thy moon-like face,
Save rue-casting on the fire of grief, his life be not.
From the sugar-scattering utterance, of Hafez seek recovery,
So that need of the remedy of rose-water and of candy, thine be not.
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Ever increasing, Thy beauty be!
All years, tulip-hued, Thy face be.
In my head, the image of Thy love,
Every day that is, increasing be.
Every cypress that, in the sward, cometh up,
Before the Alef of Thy stature, like the nun be!
That eye that is not bewitched by Thee,
Out of the jewel of tears, in a sea of blood be!
For heart-ravishing, Thy eye
In practicing sorcery, sorcery-possessed be!
Wherever in grief for Thee, is a heart,
Without patience, or rest; and without quietude, let it be.
The stature of all the heart-ravishers of the world,
In service of Thy form, bowed be!
He who in separation from Thee is not content,
Out of the circle of union with Thee, be.
Thy ruby lip that is the soul of Hafez,
From the lip of every mean and base one, far be.
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O Lord! the ball of the sky in the curve of the polo of thine be:
The place of existence and of dwelling the space of the plain of thine be!
The tress of the Lady of Victory is enamored with thy standard-tassel:
The eye of eternity without end, the lover of the galloping of thine be!
O thou that the writing of Mercury is the description of thy pomp!
Reason of all the Toghra-writer of the book of thine be!
Thy cypress-like stature became the shame of the splendor of the Tuba,
The envy of lofty paradise, the plain of the hall of thine be.
Not alone animals and vegetation and things inorganic;
Whatever is in the world of order, under the order of thine be.
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Tis a long time; and the Heart-possessor a message sent not;
A letter, wrote not; and a salutation, sent not.
A hundred letters, I sent; and that sovereign of horsemen
A messenger hastened not; and a message sent not.
To me, like a wild beast, reason affrighted,
One, deer of gait, partridge of strut, He sent not.
He knew that the bird of my heart would go from my hand,
Yet, of that chain-like hair, a snare, He sent not.
Complaint! that Said sweet of lip, intoxicated,
Knew that I was wine-sick; and a cup of wine, sent not.
As long as I boasted of excellences and of the stages,
To me, any news of any stage, He sent not.
Hafez! be with respect. For appeal is none:
If a message to a humble slave, the King sent not.
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Elderly of head, into my head youthful love, hath fallen:
And that mystery that, in the heart, I concealed, out hath fallen.
From visions path, the bird of my heart went soaring.
O eye! behold into whose snare, it hath fallen.
O sorrow! that, for that musky deer, dark of eye,
Like the musk-pod, much hearts blood, into my liver, hath fallen.
From the thoroughfare of the dust of the head of your street, is
Every musk-pod that in the hand of the morning-breeze, hath fallen.
Since thy eye-lashes drew forth the sword, world-seizing,
Many a slain one, heart-alive that, on each other, hath fallen.
In this house of retribution,
With the dreg-drunkards, whoever in fell, out hath fallen.
If the black stone give life, it becometh not the ruby:
What may it do? With its original nature, it, ill-nature hath befallen.
Hafez whose happy hand hath the tress of idols,
Into his head, a very powerful rival is it that hath fallen.
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When, into the mirror of the cup, the reflection of Thy face fell,
From the laughter of wine, into the crude desire of the cup, the Aref fell.
With that splendor that in the mirror, the beauty of Thy face made,
All this picture into the mirror of fancy fell.
All this reflection of wine and varied picture that have appeared
Is a splendor of the face of the Said that, into cup fell.
The jealousy of love severed the tongue of all the great ones:
Into the mouth of the common people, the mystery of grief for Him, how fell?
From the masjed to the tavern, I fell not of myself:
From the covenant of eternity without beginning, to me this result of the end fell.
When, like the compass, for the sake of revolution, he moveth not, what may he do
Who in the circle of times revolution fell?
From the pit of Thy chin, in the curl of Thy tress, my heart clung:
Alas. forth from the pit, it came; and into the snare, fell.
O Khwajeh! passed hath that time when thou sawest me in the cloister;
With the lace of the Said and the lip of the cup, my work fell.
Beneath the sword of grief for Him, it is proper to go dancing
For, that one who was slain of Him, his end happy fell.
Every moment, another kindness to me of consumed heart is His:
Behold, how fit for reward, this beggar fell.
The Sufis, all, are lovers and glance-players; but,
From the midst, to bad name, heart-consumed Hafez fell.
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Who, to thy cheek, the hue of the rose and of the wild rose gave,
To me, miserable, patience and ease, can give.
Who taught thy tress the habit of being long,
To me, grief-stricken, the gift of His liberality, can also give.
Hope of Farhad, I severed that very day,
When, to Shirins lip, the rein of his distraught heart, he gave.
If be not the treasure of gold, contentment is left:
Who, to kings that gave, to beggars this gave.
A fine bride, outwardly, is the world. But,
Who joined himself to her, his own life the dowry gave.
After this, My hand and my skirt; the cypress and the marge of the stream,
Especially, now, that, glad tidings of February, the wind gave.
In the hand of grief for Time, Hafezs heart became blood:
O Khwajeh Kavam ud Din! for separation from thy face, justice!
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Last night, to the rose, the violet spake; and a sweet trace gave,
Saying: In the world, me, torment a certain ones tress gave.
The store of mysteries, was my heart; and, the hand of Fate
Closed its door; and its key to that heart-ravisher - gave.
To Thy court, like one shattered, I came. For, the physician,
Me, a trace to the electuary of Thy grace gave.
By me, miserable, He passed; and to the watchers, said:
Alas! What a soul, my slain lover gave.
Sound be his body; glad be his heart; happy, his mind!
That, the hand of justice and help to the feeble one, he gave.
O counsel utterer! go, devise thy own remedy:
Loss to whom, wine and the sweet mistress gave.
Me miserable, He passed and told to my opponents:
What a pity! my Hafez how miserable life he gave.
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29
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The Homa of the height of felicity to the snare of ours falleth.
If, Thy passing to the dwelling of ours falleth.
Like the bubble, up I cast my cap with joy,
If a reflection of Thy face into the cup of ours falleth.
A night when the moon of desire ariseth from the horizon
It may be that the ray of that light on the roof of ours falleth.
When the path of dust-kissing of this door is not for kings,
How, the favor of an answer to the salutation of ours falleth?
When my life became the sacrifice for Thy lip I established the fancy
That a drop of its limpid water to the palate of ours falleth.
The fancy! Thy tress spake saying: O Lover! make not life the means;
For, of this kind, many a prey into the snare of ours falleth.
From this door, go not in hopelessness. Strike an omen:
It may be that the die of fortune to the name of ours falleth.
Whenever Hafez boasteth of the dust of Thy street,
Thy breeze of the rose-bed of the soul into the perfume-place of ours falleth.
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Plant the tree of friendship, that, to fruit, the hearts desire bringeth:
Up-pluck the bush of enmity, that countless troubles bringeth.
When thou art the guest of the tavern, with profligates be with respect:
For, O beloved, if thou be a dreg-drinker, the intoxication, of wine-sickness, this
bringeth.
The night of society, reckon plunder. For, after our time
The sphere many a revolution maketh; many a night and day bringeth.
Leylas litter-keeper, in whose order is the moons cradle,
O God! into his heart cast that, passing by Majnun, he may cause.
O heart! desire the spring season. If not, every year, this sward
A hundred beautiful roses. like the wild rose, and a thousand like the nightingale
bringeth.
Since, with Thy tress, my wounded heart hath established a covenant, for Gods sake,
Order Thy sweet ruby that to rest, its state, it may bring.
In this garden, Hafez, gray of head, asketh God
That, by the marge of the stream, he may sit; and into his embrace, a cypress may
bring.
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That one that, in his vision, the beauty of the line of the Beloved hath;
Certain it is that the acquisition of vision he hath.
Like the reed, on the writing of His order, the head of obedience,
We have placed. Perchance, with His sword, uplifted He hath.
In union with Thee, like the candle found the order that one
Who, beneath Thy sword, momently another head hath.
Attained to foot-kissing, the hand of that one, who
Ever his head, like the threshold, on this door, hath.
I am vexed with dry austerity. Bring pure wine:
For, my brain ever fresh, wines perfume keepeth.
If from wine, thine is no good quality, is not this enough that, thee,
A moment, without news of the temptation of reason, it keepeth?
That one, who planted not his foot outside the door of piety,
Now, with the intention of visiting the wine-house, desire for travel, hath.
To the dust, Hafezs shattered heart will take
The stain of desire that. like the tulip, on the liver, it hath.
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At the time of His face, retirement from the sward, our heart hath:
For, like the cypress, foot-binding it is; and like the tulip, stain it hath.
To the bow of any ones eye-brow, our head descendeth not;
For, retirement from the world, the heart of corner-takers hath.
Torment on account of the violet, I have: because it boasteth of His tress
Behold thou what conceit in the brain, the black slave of little value hath.
Saunter into the sward; and gaze at the roses throne. For the tulip
Resembleth the Kings servant, that, in the hand, a cup hath.
In the night of darkness and in the desert, where can one arrive,
Unless, in my path, the lamp, the candle of His face hath?
I and the candle of the morning, tis fit if went together:
For, we consumed; and no solicitude for us, our idol hath.
Desire for loves lesson, hath Hafezs sorrowful heart:
For neither desire for the spectacle, nor desire for the garden, the heart hath.
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That one who, in his hand the cup hath.
Ever the sovereignty of Jamshid hath.
That water, wherein Khizr obtained life,
Seek in the wine-house; for, the cup hath.
Pass lifes thread into the cup;
Wherein, order, this thread hath.
We and wine, and Zaheds and piety,
Let us see desire for whom the Beloved hath.
O Saki! without thy tress, there is naught,
In the time of that one, who desire hath.
All the ways of intoxication, the narcissus,
From thy pleasant eye, loaned hath.
The mention of thy face and tress, to my heart,
Is a great pain that, morning and evening, it hath.
On the wounded hearts of the sorrowful,
Complete saltiness, thy lip hath.
O Soul! in the pit of the chin, like Hafez,
Two hundred slaves, thy beauty hath.
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That heart that is the hidden-displayer; and that the cup of Jamshid hath,
For a seal ring, that awhile became lost, what grief it hath?
To the beard or to the mole, of beggars give not the hearts treasure:
Give to the hand of a king-like one, who it precious hath.
Not every tree endureth the violence of autumn:
The slave of resolution of the cypress, I am, who this foot hath.
Hath arrived that season, when from joy like the intoxicated narcissus,
He placeth at the goblets foot, who six derhams hath.
Now, like the rose hold not back gold for the price of wine:
For, suspicion of thee, by a hundred defects, absolute reason hath.
With the hidden mystery, none is acquainted: utter not the tale:
The path into this sacred enclosure, what confidant of the heart hath.
My heart that used to boast of solitude, now a hundred occupations,
With the morning breeze. on account of the perfume of Thy tress hath.
The hearts desire-of whom may I seek? Since there is no heart-possessor,
Who, splendor of sight, and habit of liberality, hath.
From the pocket of Hafezs religious garment, what profit can one gain?
For we seek the eternal; and a beloved he hath.
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I have an idol that, the canopy of the hyacinth around the rose hath:
A line in the blood of the Arghavan, the spring of his cheek hath.
O Lord! the dust of the line covered the sun of his face:
Give him everlasting life, who everlasting beauty hath.
When I became lover, I spake saying: I have carried off the jewel of my desire:
I knew not what, blood-scattering, waves, this sea hath.
From his eye, it is not fit to take the soul. For, from every direction, I see
Of the corner, he hath made the ambush; and the arrow in the bow hath.
When from around lovers heart, He loosed the snare of the tress,
To the informer of the wind, He speaketh saying: Secret, our mystery, he hath.
On the dust, scatter the draught; and behold the state of people of rank:
For, of Jamshid, of Kay Khosro, a thousand tales, it hath.
O nightingale! when in thy face the rose laugheth, be not in her snare,
For, on the rose, is no reliance, say, the worlds beauty, it hath.
O watchman of the assembly! for Gods sake, take my justice from him:
For, with others, he hath drunk wine; and with me, a heavy head hath.
If thou bind me to the saddle-strap, for Gods sake, quickly make me prey:
For, in delay are calamities; and the seekers loss, it hath.
Make not excluded my eye from the cypress of thy heart-seeking stature:
Plant in this its fountain-head; for pleasant running water, it hath.
From the fear of separation, make me safe, if thou have hope of it,
Saying: In safety from the eye of ill-thinkers, thee, God hath.
To my own fortune, what excuse may I utter? For that knave, city-upsetting
Slew Hafez with bitterness; and, in his mouth, sugar hath.
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Every one, who, his heart collected and the beloved acceptable hath,
Happiness became his fellow-companion; and fortune, his fellow-sitter, he hath.
Much more lofty than reason is the court of the fold of love:
That threshold, that one kisseth who, his life in his sleeve, hath.
Thy small sweet mouth is perchance Soleimans seal;
For, the world beneath the seal-stone, the picture of the seal of its ruby hath.
The ruby lip and the musky hair, when His is that and His is this,
of my Heart-ravisher, I boast; because this and that, His beauty hath.
O opulent one! with contempt, regard not the weak and the poor:
For, the chief seat of honor, the Fakir, the road-sitter hath.
When thou art on the surface of the land regard powerfulness plunder:
For, beneath the surface of the land, many a non-powerful one Time hath.
The turner of calamity from the soul and the body, is the prayer of the poor:
Who experienceth good, who, from that harvest, shame of the corn-gleaner hath?
O breeze! utter a secret of my love to the sovereign of the lovely ones,
Who, as the meanest slave, a hundred Jamshids and Kay-Khosros hath.
If he say: A poor lover like Hafez I desire not:
Speak ye to him, saying: Imperial sway, the beggar, road-sitter hath.
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Every one, who regardeth the people of fidelity,
Him, in every state, from calamity God preserveth.
Save in the Friends presence, I utter not the tale of the Friend;
For the speech of the friend, the friend preserveth.
O heart! so live that, if thy foot slip,
With both hands in prayer, thee the angel may preserve.
If desire be thine that the Beloved should not break the covenant,
Keep the end of the cord, so that He may preserve.
O breeze! If thou see my heart on that tress-tip,
By way of kindness, speak to it; that its own place it may preserve.
When I spake to him, saying: Preserve my heart how he said:
What ariseth from the slaves hand, God preserveth.
My head, and gold, and heart, and soul a ransom for that true Beloved.
Who the right of society of love and of fidelity preserveth.
Where is the dust of Thy path, that Hafez
In recollection of the work of the fragrant air of the wind, may preserve.
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Wonderful harmony and great melody, my minstrel of love hath:
Every picture of the hidden that he striketh, path to place hath.
Void of the wailing of lovers, be not the world:
For a note, pleasant of melody and joy-giving, it hath.
Although neither gold, nor force, hath our Pir, dreg-drinking,
Happily, a God sin-forgiving, error-covering, he hath.
Keep my heart great. For this sugar-worshipping fly,
Since Thy desire it became, the pomp of the Homa hath.
Far from justice it is not, if of his state inquireth
That King, who, in his neighborhood, a beggar hath.
To the physicians, I showed my bloody tears. They said:
Tis loves pain; and the remedy, the burning of the liver hath.
The tyranny of the glance, learn not. For, in loves order,
Every work, a reward; and every deed, a requital hath.
That idol of the young Christian, the wine-seller, well said:
Enjoy the joy of that persons face, that purity, hath.
O King! Hafez, a sitter of thy court, reciteth the fatiha;
And, from thy tongue, the desire of a prayer halt.
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That one, from whose hyacinth lock, a great torment, ambergris hath.
Again, with those heart-gone, grace and reproach hath.
By the head of his own slain one, He passeth like the wind:
What can one do? For, He is life; and swiftness, it hath.
From behind the screen of His tress, the moon, displaying the sun,
Is a great sun that, in front, a cloud hath.
In every corner, my eye made flowing a torrent of tears,
So that, with a great water, freshness, Thy straight cypress hath.
In error, Thy bold glance sheddeth my blood;
Be its opportunity; for a very correct judgment it hath.
If that be the water of life, that the lip of my Beloved hath,
Clear this is that a share of the mirage, Khizr hath.
On account of my heart, Thy intoxicated eye desireth my liver:
The Bold one is intoxicated. Perchance, inclination for a piece of roast meat, He hath.
The path of questioning Thee is not my sick souls:
Happy that shattered one who, an answer from the Beloved, hath.
Towards Hafezs wounded heart, when a glance casteth
Thy intoxicated eye, that, in every corner, a ruined one hath.
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That one is not the beloved, who hath a hair and a waist:
Be the slave of the form of that one who, ravishingness to the highest degree, hath.
Although the way of the angels is pleasant, yet
That is loveliness and gracefulness that a certain one hath.
O laughing rose! discover the fountain of my eye,
That, in hope of thee, a torrent of sweet water hath.
From thee, who taketh the ball of beauty, when the sun here
Is not a horseman, that in his hand, a rein hath?
Heart-sitting became my speech since thou acceptedest it:
Yes, yes; an impression, loves speech hath.
In the craft of arrow-casting, the curve of thy eye-brow
It taketh from every one who, a bow hath.
In loves path, none with certainty became the confidant of the mystery:
According to his understanding, every one an idea hath.
With the tavern-haunters, boast not of generosity:
Every word, a time; every subtlety, a place hath.
The wise bird goeth not, song-singing, in its sward,
Every spring in whose rear, an autumn hath.
To the claimant, say: To Hafez, boast not thy jest and subtlety:
A tongue and an explanation our reed also hath.
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Without the Beloveds beauty, inclination for the world, my soul hath not:
O God, every one who this hath not, that hath not.
A trace of that Heart-Ravisher, with none, I beheld:
No news of him, have I: He, a trace hath not.
In this path of love, every drop of night dew is a hundred fiery waves:
Alas! explanation, or revelation, this subtlety hath not.
From the hand, one cannot give the stage of contentment.
O camel-driver! lower; for this path limit hath not.
The harp, bent of form, calleth thee to joy:
Hearken: for any injury to thee, the counsel of old men hath not.
O heart, learn the way of profligates from the Mohtaseb.
Being drunken, but on his rightness no one suspects not.
The circumstances of the treasure of Qarun which, to the wind of destruction Time
gave.
Utter ye to the rose-bud, so that its gold, hidden, it have not.
A slave like Hafez, any one in the world hath not.
For, a king like thee, any one in the world hath not.
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The luminosity of Thy face, the moon halt not:
In comparison with Thee, the glory of grass, the rose hath not.
The corner of Thy eye-brow is my souls dwelling:
More happy than this corner, the king hath not.
With Thy face, my hearts smoke-let us see-what it will do:
Thou knowest the mirror that power of the sigh, it hath not.
Behold the boldness of the narcissus, that blossometh before thee:
Manners, one rent of eye hath not.
I have seen that eye of black heart that Thou hast,
A glance towards any friend. it hath not.
O disciple of the tavern! give me the heavy reward:
The joy of a shaikh, that the cloister hath not.
Devour thy blood and sit silent. For that tender heart,
The power of, the complaint of the justice-seeker, hath not.
Say: Go; and wash thy sleeve in liver-blood:
Whoever, a path, in this threshold, hath not.
Not I alone, drew the length of Thy tress:
Who is there, who, the stain of this black tress, hath not.
If Hafez worshipped Thee, censure not: O idol
The infidel to love, crime hath not.
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In this city is no idol that, our heart, taketh:
If fortune be my friend, hence my chattels, it taketh.
Where is a companion, disdainful and intoxicated, before whose generosity,
The mention of his desire, the heart-consumed lover taketh?
O gardener! careless of the autumn, I behold thee:
Alas! that day when thy beautiful rose the wind of death taketh.
Times highwayman hath not slept. Of him, be not secure,
If thee, he hath not taken today. For, to-morrow, thee he taketh.
In fancy, I play all this idol in this desire,
Possibly, the mention of the spectacle a master of vision taketh.
The science and the eloquence that, in forty years, my heart acquired;
I fear that, as plunder, that intoxicated narcissus taketh.
With miracle, sorcery maketh not equality. Safe be:
Who is Sameri that, from the white hand superiority he taketh.
The obstacle of the heart-straitened ones path is the crystal-glass of wine:
From thy hand, put it not, lest from thy place, thee griefs torrent take.
Although Loves path is the ambush-place of bowmen,
Knowing, whoever goeth, profit from enemies taketh.
Hafez! if the beloveds intoxicated eye seek thy life,
Clear out the house of life; and let it go, so that it may take.
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If, the hearts grief from our memory, the cup do not take.
The foundation of our work, the anxiety of the vicissitudes will take.
And if, in its intoxication, reason drag not its anchor,
From this whirlpool of calamity, the bark how will it take.
Alas! with every one the sky treacherously played:
Superiority over this treachery, is none who will take.
The path is by the darkness: where is the Khizr of the road?
Let it not be that, our honor, the fire of disappointment should take.
Towards the sward, the feeble heart draweth me for the reason,
That, by the sickness of the morning breeze, my soul from death it may take.
I am loves physician. Drink wine. For this confection,
Bringeth relief, and the thought of danger taketh.
Hafez consumed; and, to the Friend none told his state;
Perchance, for Gods sake, a message, the morning breeze will take.
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In the morning, the nightingale told a tale to the east wind,
Saying: for us what love for the face of the rose made.
If drew aside the veil of the rose and the tress of the hyacinth:
The knot of the coat of the rose-bud, loose it made.
In every direction the lover nightingale in lament:
In the midst, joy, the morning breeze made.
For that color of face, He cast into my heart the blood:
And from this rose-bed, entangled in the thorn me made.
Be that breeze of the morning pleasant to Him,
Who, the remedy for the grief of the nights sitters made.
Of strangers, ever I bewail not;
For whatever He made that Friend made.
If of the Soltan, I formed expectation, a fault it was:
If of the Heart-Ravisher, I sought fidelity, tyranny He made.
I am the slave of resolution of that graceful one,
Who, without dissimulation and hypocrisy, the work of liberality made.
To the Street of the wine-sellers, the glad tidings take
That repentance of austerity and of hypocrisy, Hafez hath made.
On the part of the respected ones of the city, fidelity to me,
The perfection of faith and of fortune, the Father of Fidelity made.
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Come; for plunder of the tray of fasting, the Turk of the sky hath made:
Hint at the circulation of the cup, the new crescent moon hath made.
The reward of fasting and the pilgrimage of acceptance, took that one
Who, to the dust of the wine-house of love, pilgrimage made.
Our true dwelling is the corner of the tavern:
God give good to him, who this edifice made.
What is the price of wine like the ruby? The jewel of reason:
Come; for profit took that one who, this barter made.
In the curve of those eye-brows of prayer-arch fashion, prayer
That one maketh, who, in blood-water, pure his heart made.
Alas! to-day, the bold eye of the city Sheikh,
At the dreg-drinkers, glance with contempt, made.
Look at the lovers face and beg your eyes,
Because eyes can see deep through the view, made.
Hear loves tale from Hafez not from the admonisher,
Although, in example, much art he made.
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With the luminous liquid of wine, an Aref purification made,
Early in the morning when, to the wine-house, visit he made.
As soon as the golden cup of the sun became hidden,
Hint at the circulation of the cup, the new crescent moon of the Id made.
Be blessed prayers of the one who feels the pain,
And the one who with tears and hearts blood, purification made.
The Imam, a khwajeh, whose desire was long prayers,
In the blood of the daughter of the grape, cleansing of the religious garment made.
With soul, from the curl of His tress, my heart purchased tumult:
I know not what profit experienced he who this barter made.
If the Imam of the prayers sends for me today,
Tell him that Hafez with wine today, purification made.
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67
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The Sufi laid the snare; and open, the cover of his box, made.
With the sky sorcery-playing, the structure of deceit, he made.
The sport of the sphere shattereth the egg in his cap:
Because, with one of mystery, the presentments of sorcery, he made.
Saki! come. For the handsome friend of the Sufis
Again, gracefully, came; and the beginning of blandishment made.
Whence is this minstrel who made the melody of Iraq;
And the resolution of turning back from the path of Hejaz made?
O heart! come; let us go to the shelter of God,
From whatever, the one, short of sleeve, long of hand, made.
Do no trick. For, whoever, truly played not love,
Open, on the face of his heart, the door of reality, love made.
To-morrow, when the vestibule of truth becometh revealed,
Ashamed the way-farer, who, illusory work made.
O partridge, pleasant strutter! where goest thou? Stand!
Be not proud, the cat suddenly became truthful, and the prayer made.
Hafez! reproach not profligates. For, in eternity without beginning,
Me, independent of austerity and of hypocrisy, God made.
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A nightingale drank the blood of the liver, and gained a rose:
With a hundred thorns, perturbed his heart, the wind of, envy made.
In the desire of a piece of sugar, glad was the heart of the parrot;
Suddenly, vain the picture of hope, decays torrent made.
Be his memory my eyes cool lustre, that fruit of my heart!
That easy went; and hard my work made.
O camel-driver; my load hath fallen. For Gods sake, a little help!
For me, fellow-traveler with this litter, hope of kindness made.
Hold not contemptible my dusty face and watery eye:
Of this straw mixed clay, our hall of joy, the azure sphere hath made.
Sigh and lamentation that, through the envious eye of the spheres moon,
His dwelling in the niche of the tomb, the moon of bow-like eye-brow hath made.
Hafez! Shah-rokh, thou didst not; and the time of opportunity hath departed.
What shall I do? Me careless, Times sport hath made.
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Like the wind, resolution of the head of the Beloveds street, I will make:
By His pleasant perfume, my own breath, musk-raining, I will make.
In folly, without wine and the Beloved, my life passeth:
Idleness, mine. After to-day, work I will make.
Every water of His face that, by knowledge and faith, I collected,
The scattering of the dust of the path of that idol, I will make.
Like the candle of the morning through love for the Beloved, it became evident to me,
That, in desire of this matter, my life, I shall make.
In memory of Thy eye, myself ruined I will make:
The foundation of the ancient covenant, strong I will make.
Where is the breeze? For this life, blood gathered, like the rose,
A sacrifice for the perfume of the Beloveds tress, I will make.
Hafez! hypocrisy and dissimulation give not purity of heart:
Choice of the path of profligacy and of love, I will make.
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Into the curve of that doubled tress, the hand one cannot put:
Reliance on Thy covenant and the morning breeze, one cannot make.
Whatever is effort, I do in search of Thee:
This is the extent that alteration of Fate, one cannot make.
With a hundred of the hearts blood the Beloveds skirt fell to my hand:
For the great reproach that the enemy maketh, release one cannot make.
One cannot call His cheek-for instance the moon of the sky:
Likening of the Beloved to every headless and footless one-one cannot make.
That moment when my lofty cypress cometh into Sama,
What place is it where the souls garment, rent one cannot make?
Only one of pure vision can behold the Beloveds face:
For save with purity in the mirror, glance one cannot make.
The difficulty of love is not in the capacity of our knowledge:
With this thought, the loosening of this subtlety, mistake one cannot make.
Jealousy became mine that Thou art the Beloved of the world. But
Day and night, conflict with the creatures of God, one cannot make.
What shall I say? For delicacy of gentle disposition, Thine
Is to such a degree that, slowly, a prayer one cannot make.
Save Thy eye-brow, naught is the prayer-arch of Hafezs heart:
In our religious order, save to Thee, devotion one cannot make.
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My heart from me, He took; concealed from me, His face, Lie made:
For Gods sake! with whom can this sport be made?
The night of solitariness was in design upon my soul:
Endless favors, the thought of Him made.
Like the variegated tulip, why am I not bloody of heart,
Since with me, the heavy head, His eye made?
With this soul-consuming pain, how may I speak, saying:
Design upon my powerless soul, the Physician made?
As a candle, He consumed me in such a way that, on me,
The flagon, weeping; and the stringed instrument, clamour made.
O wind! if thou have the remedy, this time the time:
For, design upon my soul, the pain of desire made.
Among kind ones, how can one speak,
Saying: Like this my Beloved spake; like that made.
Against the life of Hafez, the enemy would not have made that
That the arrow of the eye of that eye-brow bow made.
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Memory be of that one, who, at the time of journeying memory of us made not:
Who, by farewell, joyous our grief-stricken heart made not.
That one of youthful fortune, that dashed the writing of good acceptance,
I know not why the old slave, free he made not.
The papery garment, we wash in bloody water. For, the sky,
My guidance to the standard of justice, made not.
In the hope that perchance a great cry may reach Thee, the heart
Made in this mountain, cries that Farhad made not.
Since the bird of the sward had taken its shadow from the sward,
Its nest in the curl of the tress of the box-tree, it made not.
If from Thee, the footman of the east wind will learn work possible:
For movement, swifter than this, the wind made not.
The reed of the attirer of nature draweth not the picture of desire of him
Who as to this beauty, God-given, confession made not.
O Minstrel! change the note, and strike the path, of Iraq;
For, in this path, the Beloved went; and of us recollection made not.
The ghazals of Iraq are the songs of Hafez:
This heart-consuming path, who heard, who lamentation made not.
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On her path, I laid my face; and by me passing, she made not.
I hoped for a hundred kindnesses; yet one glance, she made not.
Malice from her heart, the torrent of our tears, took not.
Impression on the hard stone, the rain-drop made not.
O Lord! Preserve that young saucy one:
For caution, against the arrow of the sigh of those sitting in the corner, she made not.
Last night, from my lamenting, neither fish nor fowl slept:
But behold that one of saucy eye who, raised from sleep, her head made not.
Like the candle, I desired to die at her feet:
Like the morning breeze, passing by us, she made not.
O soul! without sufficiency, stone of heart, is what person,
Who, the shield before the wound of thy arrow, himself made not.
O saucy one! behold the bird of my heart, wing and feather consumed:
Go out of my head the crude madness of being a lover, it made not.
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The Heart-Ravisher departed; and hint to those heart-gone made not:
Of the companion of the city; and of the friend of the journey, recollection He made
not.
Either, my fortune abandoned the path of love;
Or He, by the highway of Tarikat, journeying made not.
I said: Perchance, by weeping, I may make His heart kind.
Impression on the hard stone, the drops of rain, made not.
Although, through grief, the wing and the feather of my heart became broken,
Go out of my head, the crude madness of being a lover it made not.
Every one kissed Thy face who saw my eye!
Without value, the work that our eye did, it made not.
I standing, like the candle, to make my life a sacrifice for Him:
Like the morning-breeze, passing by me, He made not.
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O heart! the grief of love, again, thou sawest what it did,
When the heart-ravisher went; and with the beloved, fidelity-observing, what it did.
Alas! what play, that narcissus, the sorcerer, excited:
Alas! with men of sense that intoxicated, what it did.
From the mercilessness of the beloved, my tears gained the colour of twilight:
In this work, behold my compassionless fortune what it did.
In the morning from Leylas dwelling, lightning flashed;
Alas! with the harvest of Majnun, heart-rent what it did.
O Saki! give me a cup of wine. For the hidden writer
None knoweth in the revolution of the compass, what He did.
That one who expressed this azure vault on the picture
In the screen of mysteries, evident it is not what He did.
Into Hafezs heart, the thought of love struck the fire of grief; and consumed it;
With the lover, behold ye the ancient Friend what He did.
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Friends! repentance of veiledness, the daughter of the vine made:
To the Mohtaseb she went; and by permission the work made.
From out of the veil to the assembly she came. Make ye pure of sweat of her,
So that to the companions, ye may speak saying: Wherefore farness she made?
O heart! give the glad tidings that, again, loves minstrel
Expressed the intoxicated path, and the remedy of the intoxicated made.
Not with seven waters, nay not with a hundred fires, goeth its color,
Which, upon the Sufis dress, the wine of the grape made.
From the clay of my nature and the breeze of the beloved, the blossom blossomed:
From the leaf of the beautiful, red, odoriferous rose, joy, the night singing bird made.
Hafez! From the hand surrender not humbleness. For the reason that the envious one,
In the desire of pride, reputation, and wealth, and heart, and faith made.
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Search for the cup of Jamshid from me, years my heart made.
And for what it possessed, from a stranger, entreaty made.
A jewel that is beyond the shell of existence and of time,
From those lost on the shore of the sea, search it made.
Last night, I took my difficulty to the Pir of the Magians,
Who, by strengthening of sight, the solving of sublety made.
Him, happy, laughing, wine-goblet in hand, I saw:
And in the mirror, a hundred kinds of views he made.
I said: When gave the All-wise this cup world-viewing to thee?
He said: On that day, when the azure dome He made.
Unknowingly, He was with me everywhere.
I couldnt see and my soul seekest Him, made.
His magic that He all made here,
Sameri had the cane but the white hands of Moses, seekest made.
He said: That friend, by whom lofty became the head of the gibbet,
His crime was this that clear, the mysteries of the sky, he made.
If, again, the bounty of the Holy Spirit give aid,
Others also may make those, which the Jesus made.
I said to him: The chain-like tress of idols is for the sake of what?
He said: Of his own distraught heart, Hafez complaint made.
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At the head of Jamshids cup, at that time thy glance, thou canst make,
When the dust of the wine-house, the collyrium of thy eye, thou canst make.
Without wine and the minstrel, be not beneath the skys arch. For,
Within melody, grief from out of thy heart thou canst make.
The rose of thy object openeth the veil at that time,
When, like the morning breeze, its service thou canst make.
Beggary in the tavern is the wonderful elixir,
If thou do this work, stone gold, thou canst make.
Advance a step for traveling to loves stage,
For, profits, thou mayst make if this journey thou canst make.
Thou that goest not forth from the house of nature
How passage to the street of Tarikat, thou canst make.
Neither veil nor screen, hath the beauty of the true Beloved. But,
Lay aside the dust of the path so that glance thou canst make.
Come. For, the remedy of the delight, and of the presence, and of the order of affairs,
By the bounty-giving of one possessed of vision thou canst make.
But as long as thou desirest the lip of the beloved and the cup of wine,
Think not that other work, thou canst make.
O heart! if thou gain knowledge of the light of austerity,
Abandoning of life, like the laughing candle thou canst make.
Hafez! if thou hear this royal counsel,
Passage to the highway of Hakikat thou canst make.
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I know not what is the intoxication that to us its face hath brought:
Who is the cup-bearer? This wine, whence hath he brought?
To thy hand, bring thou also the cup; take the path to the desert;
For, the sweet melody of song, the melody-warbling bird hath brought.
O heart! complain not of thy work enfolded like the rose-bud:
For the knot-loosening breeze, the morning wind hath brought.
With welcome and happiness, be the arriving of the rose and of the wild rose;
The violet, glad and beautiful, hath come; and purity, the lily hath brought.
With glad tidings, the breeze is the lapwing of Soleiman
That, from the rose-bed of Saba, tidings of joy brought.
The Sakis smile is our feeble hearts remedy;
Bring forth thy hand. For the physician hath come; and the remedy, hath brought.
O Sheikh! Of me, grieve not I am the disciple of the Pir of the Magians:
For, thou promisedest; and, he to place hath brought.
I boast of the narrow-eyedness of that warrior bold one,
Who, on me the darvish of one coat, assault brought.
Now with submission, the sky doeth Hafezs service;
Because refuge to the door of your fortune, he hath brought.
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At morning time, a perfume from the Beloveds tress, the breeze brought:
Into action, our heart distraught for Thee brought.
From the garden of the chest, I up-plucked that pine-branch.
From grief for which, every rose that blossomed, the labor-load brought.
From the roof of his palace, I beheld the moons splendor,
From shame of which, its face to the wall, the sun brought.
From fear of the plunder of His eye, I released my bloody heart;
But, it spilled blood on the path. In this way, it, it brought.
In season and out of season, forth to the voice of the minstrel and of the Saki I went:
For, with difficulty, on account of the heavy road, news, the messenger brought.
The way of graciousness and of kindness, altogether is the gift of the Beloved:
Whether the rosary He ordered; or, the Christian cord, He brought.
May God pardon the frown of his eye-brow, although powerless it made me;
In grace, to me sick, a message, it brought.
Last night, I wondered at Hafezs cup and goblet:
But, I argued not. For them, like a Sufi, he brought.
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Last night, news to me the messenger of the morning wind brought,
Saying: To shortness, its face, the day of labor and of grief hath brought.
To the minstrels of the morning cup, new raiment, we give
For this news that the morning wind brought.
Come! come! For thee, the Angel of Paradise, Rezvan,
A slave to this world, for the sake of thy heart, hath brought.
Verily, to Shiraz, we will go with the favor of the friend
O excellent friend who, as my fellow-traveler, fortune, brought.
Strive with the strength of our heart. For this cap of felt,
Many the shattering that, upon the kingly diadem, it hath brought.
From my heart to the palace of the moon, what wailings that reached,
When, memory of the cheek of that regal moon, it brought.
Hafez may cause his standard of victory to reach the sky,
When, his refuge to the court of the great King, he brought.
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When my Beloved the wine-cup in hand taketh,
The market of idols, disaster taketh.
Every one, who beheld His eye said:
Where a Mohtaseb, who the intoxicated taketh?
Like a fish, I have fallen into the sea,
So that, me, by the hook, the Beloved taketh.
In lamentation, at His feet, I have fallen
In the hope that me, by the hand, the Beloved taketh.
Happy the heart of that one who, like Hafez,
A cup of the wine of Alast, taketh.
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Save the love of those moon of face, a path my heart taketh not:
To it, in every way, I give counsel; but it kindleth not.
O counsel-utterer! or Gods sake, utter the tale of the Sakis writing:
For, a picture more beautiful than this, our imagination, taketh not.
Come O beautiful Saki! Bring colorful cup.
For a thought inside us, taketh better than this not.
Secretly, I drink a goblet; and, men think it a book:
Wonderful if the book, this hypocrisys tire kindleth not.
One day, I shall burn this gilded darvish garment,
Which, for a single cup, the Pir of the wine-sellers taketh not.
The pure-players have purities with wine, for the reason
That in this jewel, save truthfulness a picture taketh not.
Thy face and eyes this beautiful, you say forget it.
Go! This meaningless scold enters my head not.
The counsel-utterer of profligates, who hath war with Gods decree
His heart, I see much straitened: perhaps, the cup he taketh not.
In the midst of weeping, I laugh. Because, like the candle in this assembly,
The fiery tongue is mine; but, it, it kindleth not.
How happily Thou madest prey of my heart! Of Thy intoxicated eye, I boast:
For, better than this, the wild birds, a person taketh not.
In respect of our need and of the independence of the true Beloved, is speech
O heart! what profit sorcery, when in the Heart-Ravisher, it taketh not.
One day, like Sekandar, I shall bring to hand that mirror,
If, this tire, seize it, for a moment, it kindleth not.
O Benefactor! for Gods sake, a little pity. For, the darvish of the head of Thy Street
Knoweth not another door; another Path, taketh not.
For this verse, fresh and sweet, I wonder the King of kings
Why, Hafez, head to foot in gold, he taketh not.
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If the Saki the wine into the cup, in this way cast
All the Arefs into ever drinking, He will cast.
If thus, beneath the curve of the tress, He place the grain of the mole
O many a bird of wisdom, that, into the net, it will cast!
Happy the state of that intoxicated one, who at the foot of the rival,
Head or turban, knoweth not which off he will cast.
In desire of denial, the Zahed immature of nature remaineth:
Mature, he becometh when on the wine of the cup, his glance he casteth.
By day, strive in the acquisition of skill. For wine-drinking by day,
The heart like the mirror, into the blight of darkness, casteth.
The time of wine of morning-splendour is that time when night,
The evenings screen around the tent of the horizon, casteth.
Take care drink not wine with the city-Mohtaseb:
Thy wine he drinketh; and, into the cup the stone, he casteth.
Hafez! Find the corner of the sun,
If your luck, you and that full moon together, casteth.
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A world altogether, to pass life a single moment in grief is not worth:
For wine, sell our ragged religious garment; for more than this it is not worth.
In the wine-sellers street, for a single cup of wine, they take it not up:
O excellent prayer-mat of piety, that, a single cup of wine is not worth.
The watcher reproached me saying: Turn away thy face from this door:
To this our head, what happened that the dust of the door, it is not worth.
The pomp of the imperial crown, in whose grandeur is fear of life,
Is verily a heart-alluring crown; but the abandoning of ones head, it is not worth.
At first, in hope of profit, very easy the toil of the sea appeared:
I uttered a mistake. Because, a hundred jewels, this deluge is not worth.
For thee, that best that from the desirous ones thou cover thy face,
Because, the grief of an army, the joyousness of world-seizing is not worth.
Like Hafez, strive in contentment; and let go the mean world:
Because two hundred mans of gold, one grain of the favor of the mean is not worth.
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105
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In eternity without beginning, of glory, the splendor-ray of Thy beauty boasted.
Revealed became love; and, upon all the world, fire dashed.
Thy face displayed splendor; beheld the angel had no love;
From this jealousy, it became the essence of fire; and upon Adam dashed.
From that torch, reason wished to kindle its lamp,
Jealousys lightning flashed; and in confusion, the world dashed.
The adversary sought to come to the spectacle-place of the mystery:
The invisible hand came; and, at the heart of the excluded one, dashed.
Others, all on ease, dashed the dice of partition:
Our grief-experienced heart it was that also, on grief cast.
The desire of Thy chins dimple possessed the lofty soul:
At the ring of that tress, curl within curl, hand, he dashed.
The joy-book of love for Thee, Hafez wrote on that day,
When, on the head of the chattels of his joyous heart, the reed, he dashed.
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In the morning when, his standard on the mountainous lands, the Khosro of the east
pitched,
With the hand of mercy, the door of hopeful ones, my beloved beat;
Before morning, when it became manifest what is the state of the spheres love
It ascended; and, on the pride of potentates, a sweet laugh expressed.
Last night, when with the intention of dancing, my idol stood up,
From the tress, she unloosed the knot; and on the hearts of beloved ones beat.
From the color of rectitude, that moment, I washed my hand in the hearts blood:
When His eye, wine-measuring, to the sensible ones, invitation expressed.
This usage of deceit, what iron taught Him,
That when He came out, those keeping awake at night, He first attacked.
The idea of horsemen my wretched heart matured; and went:
O Lord! preserve it, for, on the center of the horsemen, it dashed.
In the lustre and color of his cheek, what soul we gave: and what blood we drank:
When His picture first appeared, on those soul-surrendering the writing he expressed.
By the woollen khirka, how into the noose may I bring Him,
A hair-clad one whose eye-lash, those dagger-thrusting attacked.
The great king, Muzaffar of pomp, the bravery of the kingdom, and the faith of Mansur
Whose liberality without hesitation, laughter, against the spring-cloud, expressed.
From that moment when, by his hand, the cup of wine became honored,
In memory of its wine-drinkers, the cup of joyousness, time drained.
With his head-cleaving sword, gleamed victory that day
When, like the star-consuming sun, on thousands, alone he dashed.
Hafez! from Gods grace, ask for his lasting life and kingdom;
For, in the time of the people, this coin of fortune, the sphere struck.
On the die of grace, and the felicity of the Kings fortune, my glance is:
Give the desire of the heart of Hafez who, the omen of the fortunate, struck.
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Play a note, at the melody whereof, a great sigh, one can cast:
Utter a verse, whereby the heavy cup of wine one can cast.
If at the Beloveds threshold, one can lay ones head,
To the sky, the shout of loftiness, one can cast.
Wretched appeareth our bent stature:
To the eyes of enemies, the arrow from this bow, one can cast.
Not contained in the cloisters are the mysteries of love-play
With magians, the cup of magian wine one can cast.
The victuals of the kings palace are not for the Darvish:
Old and ragged-clad are we upon whom fire one can cast.
In one glance, men of vision stake two worlds,
Tis love; and, on lifes cast, the first stake, one can cast.
If fortune should open the door of union with Him,
In this fancy, on the threshold, many a head one can cast.
The sum total of our desire is love, youth, and profligacy:
When the senses become the candle, the ball of explanation, one can cast.
The highwayman of safety became Thy tress. This is no wonder.
If Thou be highwayman, a hundred Karvans one can waylay.
Hafez! by the truth of the Kuran saying: From fraud and deceit come out:
It may be, that the ball of fortune with the sincere ones one can cast.
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If after Him, I go, He up stirreth calamity:
And if I sit from search, in wrath, He ariseth.
And, if, through desire, a moment on a highway,
I fall, like the dust at his foot, like the wind, He fleeth.
And, if I desire half a kiss, a hundred reproaches,
Like sugar, from the small round box of his mouth, He out poureth.
That deceit, that I behold in thy eye,
Many a reputation that, even with the dust of the path, it spilleth.
The acclivity and declivity of loves desert is calamitys snare:
A lion-hearted one is where, who not calamity shunneth?
Ask thou for life and a great patience; that the sphere, sorcery-practising,
A thousand tricks more strange than this, evoketh.
Hafez! place thy head on the threshold of submission:
For if thou make contention, with thee, Time contendeth.
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To our friend, in beauty of disposition and of fidelity, one reacheth not
In this matter, to thee, denial of our work reacheth not.
Although, into splendor, have come beauty-boasters,
To our beloved in beauty and grace, one reacheth not.
By the right of ancient society that any mystery confidant
To our friend, of one way, thank-offering, reacheth not.
From the Creators reed, issue a thousand pictures: and one
To the approval of the picture of our idol reacheth not.
To the market of created beings, they bring a thousand coins:
To the die of our master of assay, one reaeheth not.
Alas! the Kafila of life passed in such a way,
That, to the air of our country, its dust reacheth not.
O heart! grieve not of the reproach of the envious; and be firm
For, to our hopeful heart, evil reacheth not.
So live that if thou become the dust of the path, to someone,
From our way a particle of dust of the heart reach not.
Hafez consumed; and I fear that the explanation of his tale
To the ear of the powerful King reacheth not.
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Desire of passion for Thy fresh down to whomsoever, shall be:
Forth from the circle he planteth not his foot, so long as he shall be.
When, tulip-like, I arise from the dust of the tomb,
The stain of passion for Thee, the secret of the black spot shall be.
O priceless jewel! Till when, holdest thou lawful,
That, from grief, mans eye all a river shall be?
From the root of every eye-lash of mine, water is flowing. Come:
If, for bank of the stream and for the view, Thy inclination shall be.
Like my heart, forth from the screen a moment come; and come,
For, again not manifest, shall be.
On my head, be the prolonged shadow of Thy tress.
For, in that shadow, rest to the distraught heart shall be.
Through disdain, Thy eye inclineth not to Hafez. Yes,
The quality of the variegated narcissus, haughtiness shall be.
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I and refusal of wine! What a tale this is!
Doubtless, this degree of reason mine; and sufficient is.
Up to the last, I knew not the path to the wine-house:
If not, to what an extent our austerity is.
The Zahed, and haughtiness, and prayer; and I, and intoxication, and supplication:
Let us see, with whom of these, Thy favor indeed is.
If the Zahed take not the path to profligacy, he is excused,
Love is a work, that dependent on the guidance is.
I, who nights, with the drum and the harp, have dashed down the path of piety
I, suddenly, bring my head to the path! What a tale this is!
I am the slave of the Pir of the Magians, who releaseth me from ignorance,
Whatever our Pir doeth, the essence of friendly assistance is.
Last night, I slept not on account of this thought that a sage uttered:
If Hafez be intoxicated, room for complaint is.
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119
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Not all purity without alloy is the coat of the Sufi;
O many a Khirka, that is worthy of the fire!
Our Sufi, who, with the morning reading, used to become intoxicated,
At evening time, behold him; for merry of head is he.
Happy it is, if the touch-stone of experience come into use,
So that black of face becometh every one, in whom is alloy.
If, in this way, the Sakis down maketh the picture on water,
O many a face that colored with blood will be!
The daintily nurtured in affluence took not the path to the Friend:
The being a lover is the way of profligates, calamity enduring.
Grief for this mean world, how long sufferest thou? Drink wine:
Pity it is that the sages heart is perturbed.
The ragged garment and the prayer-mat of Hafez, the wine-seller will take,
If, from the hand of that moon-like Saki, there is wine.
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121
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Pleasant is Khalvat, if my beloved, the Beloved shall be
Not if I consume and the candle of assembly, He shall be.
As naught, I take Sulaimans seal-ring,
On which, sometimes, Ahrimans hand shall be.
O God! hold it not lawful that, in the sacred enclosure of union
The watcher, included; and my lot, excluded shall be.
To the Homa, say: Cast not thy auspicious shadow
On that land where the parrot less than the kite shall be.
What need of the description of desire, when the explanation of the hearts fire,
One can recognize from the burning which in speech may be.
From our head, the desire for Thy street goeth not,
With his native land, the strangers distraught heart shall be.
If like the lily, ten tongues be Hafezs,
Before Thee, like the rose-bud, on his mouth, the seal shall be.
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How a verse exciteth afresh the heart that is sorrowful!
A subtlety out of this book, we uttered; and is this very subtlety.
O beloved! if, from thy ruby I gain a ring of protection,
Beneath the order of my seal-ring, will be a hundred countries of Soleiman.
O heart! on account of the calumny of the envious, it is not proper to be sorrowful:
When thou lookest well it is possible that, in this, is thy good.
Who understandeth not this reed, image raising
Let his form, move not, if he himself be the painter of China.
The cup of wine and the blood of the heart each, they gave to each one:
In the action of destinys circle, thus it is.
In the matter of rose-water and of the rose, the decree of eternity without beginning
was this:
That should be the lovely one of the bazar; and that this should be the sitter behind the
veil.
It is not that from Hafezs heart profligacy should pepart:
For, till the last of time will be that custom of first of time.
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Happy came the rose; and more happy than that aught is not.
For, in thy hand, save the cup aught is not.
Gain, gain, the time of happy heartedness:
For, in the shell, ever the jewel is not.
Reckon plunder; and, in the rose-garden, drink wine:
For till another week, the rose is not.
O thou that hast made full of ruby thy golden cup,
Give to that one, to whom gold is not.
O Sheikh! come into our wine-jar house
Drink a wine that in Kousar is not.
If, our fellow student, thou remain, wash white the leaves;
For, in the book, loves art is not.
Hear me. Fix thy heart on a mistress,
Whose beauty bound up with ornaments is not.
O Lord! give me a wine without mixing,
Wherewith any head-pain is none.
With soul, I am the slave of the Soltan Uvays,
Although of the servant, his recollection is none.
By this crown, world-adorning, that the sun
Like this, an adorner of the diadem is not.
On Hafezs soul, taketh exception that one
In whose essence, any grace is none.
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Without the beloveds face, the rose is not pleasant.
Without wine, spring is not pleasant.
The border of the sward and the air of the garden
Without the tulip cheek is not pleasant.
The dancing of the cypress, and the rapture of the rose,
Without the one thousand songs is not pleasant.
With the beloved, sugar of lip, rose of body,
Without kiss and embrace is not pleasant.
Every picture that reasons hand depicteth,
Save the picture of the idol is not pleasant.
Hafez! the soul is a despicable coin:
For scattering, it is not pleasant.
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Musk-diffusing, the breath of the morning breeze shall be:
Again the world old young shall be.
To the lily, the Arghavan shall give the cornelian cup:
Glancing at the anemones, the eye of the narcissus shall be.
This tyranny that, from the grief of separation, the nightingale endured
In the roses pavilion, clamour-making, shall be.
If from the Masjed to the tavern I go, carp not:
Long is the assembly of admonition; and the time shall be.
O heart! if to to-morrow thou cast the joy of to-day,
Surety for the capital of cash of permanency, who shall be?
In the month Shaban, put not the goblet from thy hand. For this sun,
Till the night of the Id of Ramazan out of sight, shall be.
Precious is the rose; its society reckon plunder.
For in this way to the garden it came; and, in that way shall go.
O minstrel! the assembly of associate friends, it is: sing the ghazal and the ode:
How long sayest thou: Passed like this; and like that shall be.
To the clime of existence, came Hafez for thy sake:
Plant thy foot for farewell to him; for passing he shall be.
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As for me, out of my head, love for those dark of eye will not go:
This is the skys decree; and other way, it will not be.
The watcher tormented, and abandoned not the place of peace:
Perchance, moving towards the sphere, the sigh of morning-risers will not be.
On the day of eternity without beginning, they ordered me no work save profligacy;
Every partition of destiny that here passed, more than it, will not be.
O Mohtaseb! for Gods sake, pardon us for the clamour of drum and of reed;
For, with this idle tale without canon, the requirements of the shara will not be.
This is my power that, secretly, I practice love for Him:
The bosom, the kiss, and the embrace, of these, how shall I speak, since they will not
be?
The ruby-wine, and the place of safety, and the Saki, kind friend,
O heart! better, when becometh thy work if now it will not be?
O eye! wash not griefs picture from the tablet of Hafezs heart:
For it is the Heart-Possessors sword-wound; and, the blood-color will not go.
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The day of separation from, and the night of disunion with, the Beloved is ended:
This omen, I cast; the star passed; and the work of grief is ended.
All that grace and beauty, that autumn displayed,
At last, at the foot of the spring-breeze, is ended.
Thanks to God that, by the fortune of the cap-corner of the rose,
The pomp of Decembers wind and the majesty of the thorn is ended.
The morning of hope, that was a worshipper of the hidden screen,
Say: Come forth. For the work of the dark night is ended.
That agitation of long nights and the hearts grief,
All, in the shade of the idols tress, is ended.
I still cannot believe in the bad promises of the days,
The story of sorrow that with the idols coming, ended.
O Saki! thou showedest kindness. Be thy goblet full wine!
For, by thy deliberation, the disquietude of wine-sickness is ended.
Although, into reckoning no one bringeth Hafez,
Thanks that that labor, without limit and reckoning, is ended.
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The star gleamed; and the moon of the assembly became:
Of our affrighted heart, the consoler and comforter became.
My idol, who to school went not; and writing wrote not:
With a glance, the precept-teacher of a hundred schools became.
By His perfume, the sick heart of lovers, like the breeze,
For the cheek of the wild rose, and for the eye of the narcissus, a ransom became.
Now, in the chief seat of the inn. the Beloved placeth us:
Behold the city-beggar who, the chief of the assembly became!
Fancy established the water of Khizr, and the cup of Kay Khosro:
With one sweet draught, the Soltan Abul-Farwaris, it became.
Now, became prosperous the joy of the palace of love:
When, its geometrician, the arch of my beloveds eye-brow became.
Make pure thy lip of the excess of wine for Gods sake:
For, with thousands of sins, a mutterer to itself, my heart became.
To lovers, thy glance poured such a draught of wine,
That senseless fell science; void of understanding, reason became.
Like the precious gold of existence, is my verse. Yes:
The alchemy of this copper, the acceptance of the wealthy became.
Friends; from the path of the wine-house, turn the rein:
For, by this path went Hafez; and poor became.
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That my hearts work should be ended, my soul melted; and it became not:
In this immature wish, I consumed; and it became not.
With reproach, the Chief of thy Assembly said to me: One night, I go:
According to his wish, I became the least of His slaves; and it became not.
He gave the message saying: I will sit with profligates
Reputation for profligacy and dreg-drinking became mine; and it became not.
In that desire that, in intoxication, I may kiss that ruby lip,
What blood it was that, into my heart like a cup, fell; and it became not.
In Loves street, plant not thy foot without the road-guide;
For, I, of myself, made a hundred efforts; and it became not.
In search of the treasure-mandate of my purpose, justice! For,
I became one altogether ruined in the world; and it became not.
In search of the cash of the presence,
To the generous, much in beggary I wandered; and it became not..
Out of thoughts desire, Hafez evoked a thousand desires,
In the desire that that companion may become obedient to him; and it became not.
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Friendship in none, I perceive. To friends what hath happened?
Friendship ended when? To friends what hath happened?
Black of hue became the water of life. Khizr, auspicious of foot, is where?
From its own color, the rose hath changed. To the spring-breeze what hath happened?
None saith: A friend preserved the right of friendship.
Those right-understanding, what state hath befallen? To friends what hath happened?
Years it is since no ruby came from the mine of manliness:
To the suns heat, to the winds effort, to the rains, what hath happened?
This land was the city of friends and the dust of kind ones
Friendship, how ended? To the city friends, what hath happened?
Into the midst, the ball of grace and of liberality, they have cast:
In the plain none appeareth. To the horsemen what hath happened?
Many a rose hath blossomed; no cry of a bird hath risen:
To the nightingales, what hath chanced? To those of a thousand notes what hath
happened?
No sweet melody, maketh Zohre. Perchance, she hath consumed her lute:
Intoxication, none desireth. To the wine-drinkers, what hath happened?
Hafez! Divine mysteries, none knoweth. Silence!
Of whom, askest thou saying: To the state of Times revolution, what hath happened?
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Last night, to the wine-house, Zahed, sitting in khalwat, went:
From the head of his covenant, he departed; and to the head of the cup, went.
Yesterday, the distraught Sufi who broke the cup and the goblet:
Yester-night, by one draught of wine, wise and learned became.
To him, in dream, the mistress of youths time had come:
With elderly head, lover and distraught he became.
A young Magian, the highwayman of truth and of heart, passed:
In pursuit of that Friend, a stranger to all else, he became.
The fire of the cheek of the rose consumed the nightingales harvest:
The moths calamity, the laughing face of the candle, became.
Evening and morning, our weeping-thanks that it was not lost:
A peerless jewel, a drop of our raining became.
The narcissus of the Saki uttered a spell of sorcery:
The assembly of sorcery, the circle of our religious readings became.
Now the stage of Hafez is the banquet-place of Kings.
To the Heart-possessor, his heart went; to the Beloved, his soul went.
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Last night a messenger of news from His Highness Asaf came.
From His Highness Soleiman, the order of joy came.
With water of the wine, make clay of the dust of our existence:
To the hearts desolate mansion, the time of building came.
This endless explanation of the Beloveds beauty, that they uttered,
Is a word out of thousands, that, into example, came.
O thou wine-stained of garment! Take care; conceal my defect:
For, to visit me, that one pure of skirt came.
The place of every one of the lovely ones becometh known to-day,
When, to the chief seat, that moon, assembly-adorning, came.
On the throne of Jam, whose crown is the suns ladder of ascent,
Behold the spirit! Notwithstanding this contemptibility, an ant came.
O heart! Keep thyself safe from His bold eye;
Because, for plunder, that sorcerer, the archer, came.
Hafez! Stained, thou art. Ask a favor of the king;
For, for purification, that foundation of liberality came.
The Kings assembly is a sea. Discover the time of pearl-gaining:
Ho! O loss-stricken one! The time of barter and profit hath come.
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Love for Thee, the plant of perturbation became
Union with Thee, the perfection of perturbation became.
In the sea of union, many a drowned one who, at last,
With a head in the state of perturbation became.
Show me one heart, in whose path,
On the face, no mole of perturbation came.
Remaineth neither union nor the uniter:
There, where the imagination of perturbation came.
From every side, whereto I applied my ear,
The sound of the question of perturbation came.
Was destroyed and brought down the one,
For whom the glory of perturbation became.
Head to foot, Hafezs existence,
In love, the plant of perturbation became.
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When, in prayer, to me recollection of the curve of Thy eye-brow came.
A state passed that, into lament, the prayer-arch came.
Now from me expect neither patience nor the heart of sense;
For that patience, that thou sawest, to the wind all came.
Clear, became the wine; and intoxicated, became the birds of the sward:
The season of being a lover; and to foundation, the work came.
From the worlds quarters, I perceive welfares perfume:
Gladness, the rose brought; and joyous the morning breeze came.
O bride of skill! Complain not of fortune:
Adorn the chamber of beauty. For the bridegroom, skill understanding, is-came.
The flowery heart-allurers all put on Jewels:
Our heart-ravisher, who is with beauty God-given, came.
Beneath their load, are the trees, that have attachment:
O happy the cypress, who tree from griefs bond, came.
Minstrel! Of Hafezs utterance, utter a sweet ghazal.
So that I may speak, saying Recollection of Time s Joy mine became.
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O heart! glad tidings that the morning breeze hath come back,
From the quarters of Saba the lap-wing of good news hath come back.
O bird of the morning! Prolong the melody of Dawood:
For from the quarter of the air, the Soleiman of the rose hath come back.
Where an Aref who understandeth the lilys tongue?
That he may inquire: Why she went; and why she hath come back.
Fortune, God-given, showed me manliness and kindness.
In that for Gods sake, the idol of stone heart hath come back.
From morns breath, the tulip hath perceived the perfume of sweet wine:
Was the hearts stain; in hope of remedy she hath come back.
In rear of that Kafila, my eye drew much water:
Since to my hearts ear, the sound of the bell hath come back.
Although Hafez beat the door of offence and broke his covenant,
Behold His grace that, in peace, from our door, He hath come back.
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For the congratulation of the Pir, wine-seller, the morning-breeze came
Saying: The season of joy, and of pleasure, and of freshness, and of sweet ness is
came.
The air became Jesus breath, and the dust, musk-diffusing:
Green, the tree became; and into song the bird came.
The oven of the tulip the spring-breeze enkindled to such a degree,
That, immersed in sweat the rose-bud became; and into agitation, the rose came.
With the ear of sense, listen to me; and for ease, strive:
For, to my ear, from an invisible messenger, this matter of the morning came.
From the thought of separation, come out, so that collected thou mayst be,
Since when Ahriman went, Surosh came.
From the bird of the morning, I know not the noble lily,
What it heard, that, notwithstanding its ten tongues, silent it became.
The assembly of affection is the place of society of the excluded what!
Cover the mouth of the cup; for the khirka-wearer is came.
From the cloister to the wine-house, Hafez goeth:
Perchance, from the intoxication of austerity and of hypocrisy to sense he is came.
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In the morning, to my pillow, vigilant fortune came:
Said: Arise! For that thy dear Khosro hath come.
A goblet drink; and, for seeing Him, merry of head, go:
That thou mayst see in what fashion, thy idol hath come.
O Khilvati, musk-pod opener! Give the glad tidings
That, from the desert of Khotan, a musky deer hath come.
To the cheek of those consumed my weeping hath brought back a great lustre:
Weeping, the helper of the wretched lover hath come.
Again desirous of the eye-brow bow is the bird of my heart:
O pigeon! Be expectant. For the falcon hath come.
O Saki! Give wine; suffer no grief on account of the enemy or of the Beloved:
For, to our hearts desire, that hath gone; and this hath come.
When, the spring-cloud beheld Times bad faith,
On the lily and the hyacinth and the rose, its weeping came.
When, from the nightingale, the morning breeze heard Hafezs utterance,
At the spectacle of the sweet basil, ambergris-scattering, it came.
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Not every beloved one that up-kindleth his face the work of a heart-ravisher knoweth.
Not every one who maketh the mirror, the work of a Eskandar knoweth.
Not every one who slantwise placed his cap and sat severe
The work of a crown-possessor, and the usage of a Ruler knoweth.
Like the beggars, do not thou service for wages:
For the way of slave-cherishing, the Friend Himself knoweth.
I am the slave of resolution of that profligate, safety-consuming,
Who, in beggar quality, the work of an alchemist knoweth.
Good are fidelity and covenant, if thou wilt learn:
If not, every one thou seest, the work of a tyrant knoweth.
My distraught heart, I staked; and knew not
That one born of man, the way of a Pari knoweth.
Here, finer than a hair, are a thousand points:
Not every one who shaveth his head the work of a Kalandar knoweth.
The center of the point of my vision is thy mole;
For the value of the incomparable jewel, the jewelier knoweth.
In stature and face, every one who became the king of the lovely ones
Taketh the world, if the work of a justice-dispenser, he knoweth.
Acquainted with Hafezs heart-alluring verse, becometh that one,
Who, the grace of disposition, and the utterance of Dari knoweth.
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Whoever became the confidant of his own heart, in the sacred fold of the Beloved
remained:
He, who knew not this matter, in ignorance remained.
If, forth from the screen, went my heart censure not:
Thanks to God, that not, in the screen of thought, it remained.
Out from pawn for wine, the Sufis took their khirka:
Our darvish-habit, it was that, in the vintners house, remained.
Mohtaseb became Sheikh and forgot his own sin.
Our tale is that which, at the head of every market, remained.
Every red wine that, from that crystal hand, I took,
Became the water of regret; and, in my eye, the jewel of rain remained.
Save my heart, that, from eternity without beginning to eternity without end, proceeded
Thy lover,
I have heard of none, who ever in the work remained.
That, like Thy eye, it might become, the narcissus became sick:
Its habit was not gained by it; and, sick, it remained.
More pleasant than the sound of loves speech, naught I heard:
A great token, that, in this revolving dome remained.
A darvish garment, I had; and it concealed a hundred faults:
For wine and the minstrel, the khirka was pawned; and the mystical cord remained.
The Chinese painter became astonished of Your face,
Such that its story on very door and wall, remained.
One day, to the spectacle-place of Thy tress, Hafezs heart
Went that it would return; but, ever, captive to Thy tress, it remained.
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Arrived the glad tidings that griefs time shall not remain:
Like that remained not; like this shall not remain.
Although, I am, in the Beloveds sight, become dusty and despicable;
Honored like this, the watcher shall not remain.
Since the veil-holder striketh all with the sword,
Dweller of the sacred territory, a person shall not remain.
Of the picture, good or bad, is what room for thanks or for lament
When, on the page of existence, the writing shall not remain?
The song of Jamshids assembly, they have said, was this:
Bring the cup of wine; for Jam shall not remain.
O candle! reckon union with the moth a great gain;
For till dawn, this commerce shall not remain.
O powerful one! Bring to thy hand the darvishs heart:
For the treasure of gold, and the treasure of derham shall not remain.
In gold, on this mansion of chrysolite, they have written:
Save the goodness of people of liberality, aught shall not remain.
Hafez! Sever not desire for the Beloveds favor:
For the picture of violence and the mark of tyranny shall not remain.
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O thou whose pistachio, laugheth at the tale of candy!
I am desirous. For Gods sake, one sweet smile, smile.
With thy stature, the Tuba tree cannot boast:
By this tale, I pass. For long, becometh the matter.
Thou wishest not that a river of blood should gush from thy eye?
On the constancy of society of rosy ones, bind not thy heart.
If sullenness thou display; or if reproach, thou make,
The allied friend of the man, self-approving, we are not.
Of the perturbation of my state, acquainted how becometh
That one, whose heart captive to this noose became not?
Brisk is the market of desire. Where is that candle-face?
So that, on the ruddy fire of his face, soul and heart, I may make rue.
Wherever our lover shows His sweet smile,
Who will be thou pistachio, for Gods sake smile not!
Hafez! The glance of the saucy ones, thou abandonest not:
Knowest thou where thy place is Khwarazm, or Khojand?
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Thou wrotest not the account of thy state; and, passed some time:
Where a confidant so that to thee, I may send some message?
To this lofty desire, we cannot attain
Unless your favor advanceth some paces.
Since from the jar, wine hath gone into the flagon; and the rose hath cast its veil,
Preserve the opportunity of ease; and drink some cups.
Candy mixed with the rose, is not the remedy for our sick heart:
Some kisses mix with some abuse.
O Zahed! Pass from the circle of profligates to safety:
Lest ruined make thee, the society of some ill of fame.
The defect of wine, all thou toldest; its profit also tell:
Negation of skill, make not for the sake of the heart of some people.
O beggars of the tavern! God is your Friend,
Have no eye of favor from some animals.
To his dreg-drinker, how well spake the Pir of the wine-house,
Saying: Utter not the state of the consumed heart to some immature ones.
From desire of thy face, love-kindling Hafez consumed:
O one whose desire is fulfilled! Cast a glance towards one some desire unfulfilled.
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Last night, at morning time, me freedom from grief, they gave.
And, in that darkness of night, me the water-of-life they gave.
Through the effulgence of the ray of His essence, me senseless, they made:
From the cup of splendor of His qualities, me wine they gave.
It was a morning, how auspicious! And a moment how joyous!
That Night-of Power when me, this new command, they gave:
After this my face and the mirror of the glory of Beauty;
For in it, me news of His splendor they gave.
If I became desire-gainer and happy of heart, what wonder?
Deserving, I was; and me, these as alms they gave.
That day, me glad tidings of this fortune the invisible messenger gave:
That in respect to that violence and tyranny, me, patience and endurance they gave.
This sweet that
The blessing of Hafez and the breathings of morning-risers it was
That me, freedom from the bond of Times grief they gave.
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Last night I saw that the angels beat the door of the tavern,
The clay of Adam, they shaped and into the mould, they cast.
The dwellers of the sacred fold of the veiling and of the abstaining of the angels,
On me, dust-sitter, the intoxicating wine cast.
The load of deposit, the sky could not endure:
In the name of helpless me, the dice of the work, they cast.
The wrangle of seventy-two sects, establish excuse for all
When truth, they saw not, the door of feeble they beat.
Thanks to God, between me and Him, peace chanced,
The cup of thankfulness, the angels, dancing, cast.
Not fire is that, whereat the candles flame laugheth:
Fire is that, wherein the moths harvest they cast.
From off thoughts face, none hath drawn the veil as Hafez
Since the tress-tip, the brides of speech combed.
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Of coins, is it that they examination take
So that, after their own work, all the cloister-holders take?
In my sight, the counsel is that all work, friends
Should let go; and, the curl of the tress of a friend take.
The tip of the Sakis tress, happily the companions take:
If the sky permit them, a little rest they take.
To lovely ones, boast not of the strength of thy arm of chastity:
For, among this tribe, with a single mounted one, a fortress, they take.
O Lord! How bold for blood are these young bold ones;
For, momently, with the arrow of the eye-lash, a great prey, they take.
To sweet song, and to the reeds voice sweet is the dance:
Especially, that dance wherein, an idols hand, they take.
Hafez! No grief for the wretched have the sons of Time:
A path aside from the midst of them, if possible best that they take.
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If lawful the need of profligates, the wine-seller maketh,
His sin, God forgiveth; and, repelling of calamity maketh.
Saki! Give wine in the cup of justice, so that the beggar
Gather not jealousy that, the world full of calamity, he maketh.
O God! The glad tidings of safety from these griefs may arrive,
If, fidelity in the covenant of trust, the holy traveller maketh.
Sage! If before thee come sorrow or ease,
Ascribe not to other; for these, God maketh.
In the workshop, wherein is no path to reason and excellence,
An arrogant judgment, why weak imagination maketh?
Minstrel! Thy lyre, play: Without death, none died.
This melody, who chanteth not, mistake maketh.
Since loves pain is ours, and the calamity of wine-sickness,
Either the ruby of the beloved, or the pure wine maketh.
In the desire of wine, life passed; and in love Hafez consumed:
Where is one of Isa-breath that our reviving maketh.
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O heart! Consume. For deeds thy consuming maketh:
The repelling of a hundred calamities, the midnight supplication maketh.
The reproach of the Beloved, Angel of face, endure like a lover:
Because, compensation for a hundred of tyranny, one glance maketh.
The screen from this world to the world of angels they rend for him,
Who, the service of the cup, world-displaying, maketh.
Of Jesus breath and compassionate, is the physician of love; but,
When, in thee, he seeth no pain, to whom remedy he maketh.
Upon thy God, cast thou the work; keep happy of heart:
For if mercy, the adversary maketh not; God maketh.
Through sleeping fortune, I am vexed. It may be that vigilance
A prayer, at the time of opening of morning, maketh.
Hafez consumed; and took not the perfume of the Beloveds tress:
Perchance, the guide of this fortune of his, the wind maketh.
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For profligacy and love, my censure that foolish one maketh;
Who, on the mysteries of men of hidden knowledge, criticism maketh.
Behold the perfection of loves mystery, not sins defect:
For, whoever skill-less is, glance at the defect maketh.
From the perfume of the angel of paradise, perfume ascendeth at that time
When, the dust of our wine-house the perfume of her collar, she maketh.
The Sakis glance so struck the path of Islam,
That, perchance, shunning of the red morning wine, Suhaib maketh.
The key of the treasure of happiness is the acceptance of one of heart:
Be it not that, doubt or suspicion, in this matter, any one maketh.
To his desire reacheth the shepherd of the Wadi of safety at that time
When some years, with soul, the service of Shuayb, he maketh.
Blood from the eye, Hafezs tale causeth to drop,
When of youths time and of the time of old age, recollection, he maketh.
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If again passing, the bird of fortune shall make.
Again the Beloved shall come; and contentment with union shall make.
Although, to the eye remaineth no power of the pearl or the jewel,
It shall devour a great quantity of blood, and the design of a great scattering shall
make.
Last night, I said: Maketh the ruby of His lip my remedy?
Voice, gave the invisible messenger saying: Yes! it maketh.
To Him, of our tale none can utter;
Perchance, its reporting the morning breeze maketh.
To the hawk of my own sight, I have given flight at the partridge:
Perchance, it may call my fortune; and a great prey may make.
Void is the city of lovers; it may be that from a quarter,
Out from himself, a man cometh; and a work maketh.
Where a generous one, from whose banquet of joy, the grief-stricken one
Drinketh a draft; and the repelling of wine-sickness maketh?
Either fidelity; or the news of union with Thee; or the death of the watcher:
Of these, one, two, or three, deeds the spheres sport maketh.
Hafez! If, even a day, from His door, thou go not,
From a corner of a quarter, passing by thy head, He maketh.
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One day, when recollection of us thy musky reed maketh,
It will take reward: Two hundred slaves that free, it maketh_
The messenger of Her Highness Salma-to whom be safety!
What is it if, with a salutation, our heart joyous, she maketh?
Examine this: Many a treasure of desire will they give thee,
If prosperous, one ruined like me, thy favor maketh.
O Lord! Into the heart of that Khosro Shirin cast
That, a passing in mercy, by Farhad, he maketh.
Now, me from foundation, loves glance for thee hath taken:
Let us see, again, what thy sage-like thought maketh.
Independent of our praise is thy pure essence:
With beauty God-given, thought of the attirer, who maketh?
Into Shiraz we traveled not to our desire,
Joyful the day, when way to Baghdad, Hafez maketh.
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Who is that one, who, by way of manliness, fidelity with me will make;
In respect of an ill-doer like me, once a good deed will make?
First, to the sound of the harp and of the reed, me, His message, he will bring:
Then, with a measure of wine, fidelity with me, he will make.
The Heart-ravisher, for whom my soul withered; by whom, the desire of my heart
opened not:
Of Him, one cannot be hopeless. Perchance, loving kindness, He may make.
I said So long as I have been, I have not loosed a knot from that tress:
He said: I have ordered it. With thee, readiness it shall make.
The wool-wearer, sullen of disposition hath not perceived loves perfume:
Of its intoxication, utter a hint, that, abandonment of sensibleness he may make.
A beggar, void of mark, like me! A Friend like that was difficult to:
Hidden pleasure with the common bazar-haunter, where doth the Soltan make?
Tis easy if, from that tress, full of twist and turn, I experience tyranny:
Or its bond and chain, what grief that ones, who, coming and going, may make?
Countless, became griefs army. From fortune, I seek aid.
Until, perchance, consolation Fakhru-d-Din Abdu-s-Samad may make.
Hafez! With this eye full of sorcery, attempt Him not:
For that tress of night hue of His many a deceit shall make.
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Inclination for the sward, the cypress of my sward, wberefore maketh not?
The fellow-companion of the rose, becometh not? Memory of the lily maketh not?
Yesterday, I complained of His tress and what a pity,
Said that this black servant never listens to me not.
Until, into the curl of His tress, went my foolish heart,
On account of that long Journey, the resolution of visiting its native land, it of itself
maketh not.
Submissiveness, before the bow of His eye-brow, I keep displaying; but,
Ear-drawn it is. Therefore, for me, the ear, He maketh not.
Notwithstanding all this perfume of Thy skirt, in respect of the wind, wonder cometh
to me,
That, by Thy passing, the dust, the musk of Khotan, it maketh not.
When with the wind, the violet tress becometh full of twist:
Alas! Of that time of curl, what recollection that my heart maketh not.
In hope of union with Thee, the fellow-companion of the soul, my heart is not:
In desire of Thy street, the service of the body, my soul maketh not.
If my Saki of silver leg giveth naught but dregs,
The body all mouth, like the wine-cup, who is there that maketh not.
Not listening to counsel, Hafez was slain by Thy glance:
Fit is the sword for him, who the comprehension of speech maketh not.
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Astonished at our glance-playing, those void of vision are:
As I appeared so I am; the rest, they know.
The sages are the center of the compass of existence; but
Love knoweth that, in this circle, they head-revolving are.
Not alone is my eye the splendor-place of His cheek:
Revolving this very mirror, the sun and the moon are.
With the lip of those sweet of mouth, God established my covenant:
We all slaves; and these lords are.
Poor are we; and desire for wine and for the minstrel, we have:
Also! If, in pledge, the woolen khirka they take not.
The union of the sun reacheth not to the blind bat:
For, in this mirror those of vision astonished are.
Boast of love; and lament of the tyranny of the beloved-O excellent the boast of
falsehood!
Deserving of separation, love-player-like these are.
Perchance Thy dark intoxicated eye will teach me the work
If not, capable of abstinence and intoxication, not all are.
If to the pleasure-place of souls, the wind carry Thy perfume,
In scattering, the jewel of their existence, reason and soul scatter.
Zahed! If Hafez practice not profligacy, what fear? Know
From that tribe that readeth the Qoran, the demon fleeth.
If the young magians become acquainted with our ill-thought,
After this, in pledge, the Sufis khirka they take not.
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Those of lily perfume cause griefs dust to sit when they sit:
Patience from the heart, those of Angel-face take when they strive.
To the saddle-strap of tyranny, hearts they bind when they bind:
From the ambergris beperfumed tress, souls they scatter, when they scatter.
In a life-time, with us a moment, they rise, when they sit,
In the heart, the plant of desire they plant, when they rise up.
The tear of the corner-takers they find, when they find:
From the love of morning-risers, the face they turn not, if they know.
From my eye, the pomegranate-like ruby they rain, when they laugh:
From my face, the hidden mystery, they read, when they look.
The one who thought that the remedy for lover is simple:
Out of sight of those sages who consider treatment, be.
Those who like Mansur are on the gibbet, take up that desire of remedy:
To this court, they call Hafez when they cause him to die.
In that presence, the desirous ones bring grace, when they bring supplication:
For, if in thought of remedy they are, distressed with this pain, they are.
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The slave of thy intoxicated eye, crown-possessors are:
Undone with the wine of Thy ruby lip, sensible ones are.
For Thee, the wind and for me the water of the eye became informers:
If not, mystery-keepers the lover and the Beloved are.
When Thou passest, glance: Beneath Thy two tresses,
From right and left, how restless they are.
Like the wind, pass over the violet-bed. Behold,
From the tyranny of thy tress, how sorrowful they are!
O God-recognizer? Our portion is paradise. Go:
For deserving of mercy, sinners are.
To that rose cheek not alone do I sing the love song:
For, on every side, Thy nightingales a thousand are.
O Khizr of auspicious foot! Be thou my handseizer. For I
Travel on foot; and my fellow-travelers on horse-back are.
To the wine-house, go; and with wine make ruddy thy face:
To the cloister, go not: for there, dark of deed, they are.
Free of that twist-possessing tress, Hafez be not:
For, free, those bound to Thy girdle are.
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Those Mursheds, who, with their glance alchemy of the dust make,
At us, eye-cornering, do they make?
My pain concealed from the claimants physician, best:
It may be that, its remedy from the treasury of the hidden, they make.
Since the Beloved uplifteth not the veil from His face,
Why doth every one, in imagination, a tale make?
Since they carried not away the beauty of ease; and austerity is,
That best that, as a favor, release of their own work, they make.
Be not without divine knowledge; for in excess of love:
Bargains with the friend, people of vision make.
Now, within the screen, many a calamity goeth:
At that time when the screen falleth down, let us see what they make.
If of this tale the stone bewail, hold it not wonderful;
Utterance of the tale of the happy heart, those of heart make
Drink wine. For, within the screen, a hundred crimes on the part of strangers
Better than a devotion which, with dissimulation and hypocrisy, they make.
The garment wherefrom cometh the perfume of Yusef
It, I fear, the proud brothers rent make.
Hafez! Union is ever unattainable:
God forbid! To the beggars state, less attention they should make.
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If, in this way, heart-ravishingness, lovely ones make,
In the faith of Zaheds, breaches, they will make.
Wherever that branch of the narcissus blossometh,
Its narcissus-holder, their own eye, those of rose-cheek make.
O youth, cypress of stature! Strike the bail,
Before that time when, of thy stature, the polo they make.
Over their own head, lovers have no command:
Whatever be Thy order, that they make.
In my eye, less than a drop are
Those tales that of deluge, they make.
When our beloved beginneth sama,
Hand waving, the holy ones of the ninth Heaven make.
Immersed in blood became the pupil of my eye,
This tyranny against man, where do they make?
O heart, careless of mystery! Forth from grief, come happy:
In the crucible of separation, pleasant ease they make.
Hafez! Draw not forth thy head from the midnight sigh,
So that, gleaming like the morning, the mirror they may make.
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I said: Me, prosperous, Thy mouth and lip, when do they make?
He said: By my eye whatever thou sayest even so do they make.
I said: Thy lip demandeth tribute of Egypt:
He said: In this matter, loss they seldom make.
I said: To the point of Thy mouth, who taketh the way?
He said This Is a tale that to the subtlety-knower, they make.
I said: In the society of the lofty-sitter, be not idol worshipper?
He said: In loves street, also this and also that they make
I said: The desire of the wine-house taketh grief from the heart.
He said: Happy, those who joyous a single heart make.
I said: Wine and the religious garment, are they not the ordinances of the religious
order?
He said: In the religious order of the Pir of the Magians, this work they make.
I said From the sweet ruby of thy lips, what profit the old is?
He said: Him, with a sweet kiss, young they make.
I said To the chamber when goeth the Khwajeh?
He said: That time when Jupiter and the moon conjunction make.
I said: Prayer for his fortune is Hafezs morning exercise.
He said: This prayer the angels of the seventh heaven make.
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The admonishers who, in the prayer-arch and the pulpit, grandeur make,
When into their chamber they go, that work of another kind they make.
A difficulty, I have. Ask the wisp ones of the assembly,
Why those ordering penitence, themselves penitence seldom make?
Thou mayst say, they have no belief in the day of judgment,
That, in the work of the Ruler, ail this fraud and deceit they make.
O Lord! Place these newly-enriched ones upon their own asses:
Because, on account of a Turk slave and a mule, all this arrogance, they make.
O beggar of the monastery! Leap up. For, in the cloister of the magians!
They give a little water; and hearts strong make.
As much as his boundless beauty slayeth the lover,
From the invisible, their head in love, raised another crowd make.
O angel! Utter the tasbih at the door of loves tavern
For within, Adams clay, dough they make.
At dawn, from Gods throne, came a shout: wisdom spake:
Thou mayst say that chanting of the verse of Hafez, the holy ones make.
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Thou knowest what tale that the harp and the lyre make?
Secretly drink ye wine that thee precious they may make.
The honor of love and the splendor of lovers, they take:
The censure of the young; and the reproof of the old, they make.
Nothing gained but a darken heart, yet,
Wrong in this illusion that someday gold they make.
They say: Utter ye not loves mystery; hear it not:
It is a difficult story, whereof relation, they make.
Out of the door, we being deceived by a hundred deceits,
Let us see, within the screen, what device they make.
rimes vexation, they give the Pir of the Magians:
Behold what with the Pir, these holy travelers make!
One can purchase a hundred honors with half a glance,
In this act, deficiency, lovely ones make.
With effort and struggle, a crowd established union with the Beloved:
Reliance on Fate, another crowd make.
In short, on Times permanency, rely not:
For this is the workshop wherein change they make.
Drink wine. For the Shaikh, and Hafez, and the Mufti and the Mohtaseb,
All when thou lookest well fraud make.
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